A “More Than Skin Deep” Medical Exam

Ever have a doctor’s visit take a more mystical turn than expected? I recently had an irksome, red rash on my eyelids that wouldn’t go away. I expected the dermatologist to give me some cream and call it a day. What I didn’t expect was his observations about my very being.

Dark-haired, trim, and middle-aged, Dr. W came into the examining room, looked at my rash, sat down and leaned back. “I see this kind of thing a lot, mostly in women,” he began. “Let me guess. You’re highly organized and like things to go… a certain way.”

His remark was so unexpected; I didn’t know what to say at first. Was he calling me controlling?

The trouble was he was right. But how did he know? Did I have a maniacal gleam in my eye? Had he caught me re-arranging the messy pamphlets on the side counter before he came in? Did he see me slip my co-pay change back into my wallet, all bills facing the same way? Was I in the midst of Sigmund Freud?

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Yes, I guess I care about things.“

He nodded, warming to the subject. “Let’s face it. You care A LOT.”

This made me wonder. Was it wrong to care A LOT? Did caring too much lead to itchy eyelids? Was my neurosis so obvious that the doctor took one look and summed it up instantly?

His assistant was with us, a young woman who had been typing on the computer while he talked. But even she stopped a few times to check my expression as he gave his assessment.

Was he hinting that I should change? That I should become like one of those women I see in local nail salons, supermarkets, and restaurants? The ones who seem so put-together, serene, and blasé. Do they care just the right amount?

He prescribed some cream, and I must admit, it worked beautifully. The rash cleared up, but weeks later I couldn’t help musing about what he said. Dr. W. had nailed my personality in seconds, which was disconcerting, considering he just looked at my eyelids. We all want to believe we’re special, even a little mysterious. He saw everything that irks and yes, sometimes embarrasses me, about myself. That need for control, organization, and sometimes perfection.

Now I’m expected to go back in a few weeks for my annual dermatology check-up. If Dr. W. saw all this from my face what will happen with a full-body scan? I can only imagine. And can I handle such scrutiny—outer and inner?

Time will tell, but at least this time, I’ll be prepared. I’ll also turn away from the messy pamphlets on his side counter.

 

Have you ever had someone “get” you immediately, to the point of it being uncomfortable? Comments are always welcome.

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