Is He Doc or Doppy?

Doctors are not the smartest people in the world. I mean, have you ever gone to the doctor and had them tell you what was wrong with you? NO. He comes in, after making you wait for him forever, and says, “So what seems to be the problem?” Don’t you think if he is supposed to be so smart that he could figure it out on his own? For the money we pay him you think he could tell us what was wrong and tell us when we need to change to oil in our car next.

Then when you tell him what is going on, “Doc, it hurt when I lift my arm up.” What does he do? He grabs you arm and lifts it up and asks you the stupid question, “Does this hurt?” DUH! You just told him it hurts when you lift it up. Does he think that by him lifting it up the pain would disappear? OF COURSE IT HURT! Don’t you just want to kick him as hard as you can and ask, “Does that hurt you big dope?

I think in order to become a doctor you have to be a bit demented anyway. Who wants to sit around all day long and listen to people complain about all that ails them? “Doc, I don’t feel so good.” “Doc, my tummy hurts.” “Doc, I think I have diaria.” It is an all day organ recital, “My heart is burning, my lungs are collapsing, my liver is on vacation and my brain hurts.” Only someone with a really demented mind would want to spend their day listening to that. You know what I think? I think the reason someone becomes a doctor is to see how far they can push people before they realize the doctor has been messing with their minds.

Exhibit A: Hospital gowns that don’t close in the back.

First of all, why should I have to take off my clothes for the Doctor to tell me I have athlete’s foot? You go to the Doctor and tell the nurse at the front desk that you have been having trouble with your feet itching and they make you sit there for hours reading magazines from the 1900s in the “Waiting Room.” You sit there with a dozen other people and you have to wonder "What's wrong with all of them?" Suddenly you wonder how many sick people have TOUCHED the magazine you're flipping through, and you think about the half life of germs in a warm crowded room. After an hour of sitting with the hacks, coughs, sneezes, open wounds and dirty bandages, you KNOW you're walking away with four viruses, three bronchial infections a rare foot disease and a mild form of leprosy. THAT'S why they keep you there so long -- it's not that they're not ready for you. They've got plenty of time. You think a doctor's office would stay in business if it CURED everybody in a timely manner? They need repeat business, and the waiting room is just one big incubator.

Finally, they take you back to a little cell and tell you a great big fat lie, “The Doctor will be right with you.” Yeah RIGHT! While you are waiting the nurse tells you to undress and put on the gown she passes to you with a glint of laughter in her eyes. Oh yeah, she knows there is no back in this thing and that when you sit down your buns will freeze to what ever you sit on.


Then she tells you to sit on a table. How many of you were ever allowed to sit on the table at home? Our elbows weren’t even allowed on the table let alone our backside. If I even thought about sitting on the table my mom would have reached across the room and slapped me in the back of the head, “You don’t sit on the table. What kind of animal are you? You put your rump in a chair and your feet on the floor!”

This is not a table. It is an uncomfortable bench at best that has a really big sheet of toilet paper stretched across it. They pretend that paper is there to make it easy to clean after you are gone, however, I know it is there just of they can make fun of you when you are gone. That paper, when you sit on it, it takes a copy of your butt print and after you leave they laugh at the shape of your big fat ba-hoochie.

Exhibit 2: The stethoscope. If the doctor was not warped in the head he would not keep his stethoscope in the icebox. You know that is where he keeps it. He brings it out and slaps it on your chest and tells you to take a deep breath. You can’t help but take a deep breath when that thing hits your chest. (Make deep intake of breath sound) Then he tells you to exhale. “Yeah, right. Take that ice cube off my chest and I might be able to.”

Exhibit C: The miniature cup they give you when they need to run some tests. They hand you this little cup and tell you pee in this little cup…mid-stream. Mid-Stream? What rocket scientist came up with that plan? The big question here is, “Who would have ever thought to run test on someone’s pee?” Think about it. There is a group of doctors sitting around the hospital with a real puzzler. None of them can figure out what is wrong with the patient and all of a sudden one of them perks up, smiles ear to ear and proclaims, “I have an idea, let’s test his pee.” How do you make the jump from no clue what is wrong to Test the guys pee?

Exhibit D: The Bill. They charge you for anything they can fit into the bill. Another doctor walks into your room while you are there and they charge you for his consultation. If a Nurse uses a Kleenex to blow his nose they charge you $50 for a box of Kleenex. They charge you for paperwork, yeah right! The paperwork you are paying for is that paper you sat on. You pay for them to make fun of your hind end.

The next time you have to go to the Doctor remember this, even though you may have paid for most of his BMW you still can’t take it home.

Do yourself a favor, laugh more. It is, after all, the best medicine and much cheaper than any doctor.

(Dennis Tooley is the Founder of Potential Unlimited, Motivational Speaker and Christian Comedian. Visit Http://www.potentialunlimited4u.com)