Between a crying baby and an aggravating elderly couple here I sit. As usual whoever is responsible for calling in patients takes their sweet ass time. You know, being the middle man really doesn't bother me but having two irritating elements nudging me is down right sickening. Saving me from a major headache and constant misery a high pitch female voice starts calling out names. The first named was a Xavier Mendez. Hearing the name that was called the mother with the crying baby leaves the seat to my left to see an assigned doctor. Five minutes later this same high pitched voice calls a Charles Benson. Hearing the name that was called the elderly couple to my right leaves their seats to see an assigned doctor.
The young lady seemed as if she had it all figured out, but something must've gone wrong. I don't know what had happened and neither did I want to know the malfunction. Some ten minutes later the young lady's high pitch voice returns. Ironically, the young lady comes into the waiting room to call the next name. The name that she would call next would be a Mr. Walker. For the first time in two hours and thirty minutes I felt relieved.
I know I'm going to sound like a perve but Ms. Mulatto was a perfect ten. Before my assigned doctor steps in the room I take my shoes off and place them in the nearest corner in the room ( or where I could see it). In a chair on the right side of the door.
Before the assigned doctor comes in to do his/or her's job I do a little workout. It ain't nothing really. A couple of push-ups, a little sit-ups, and a small boxing routine. Right in the middle of my boxing routine I hear the same high pitch female voice from the waiting room say "excuse me Sir." Turning around slowly and I see that it's Ms. Mulatto. She came to tell me that my assigned doctor was on their way and to also give me a long bib like shirt (the one your told to wear while visiting the doctor). Boy did she make my blood rush. Not a minute after she left I put on the long bib and waited for the doctor.
Some four minutes later my assigned doctor steps in the room. Dr. Horowitz was a white elderly man about the age of maybe seventy. He stood at 5ft, 2in tall. His weight was possibly between 230lbs to 250lbs. Placed on his chin Horowitz had a nice medium goatee that was a mix of black and grey. For the sake of time myself and Dr. Horowitz shake hands so the check up can proceed.
My ears and eyes were in good condition. The inside of my throat seemed to ok. Heartbeat sounds beyond normal. I'm not surprised the joints are working very well. Blood sugar was a score of 5.6 to 6.9 (perfectly). My blood pressure elevated with the score of 129/80. This elevation is due to a lot of things that might fill a garbage can in less than an hour.
Dr. Horowitz seemed to be on a mixture of impression and shock. Once the check up was over Horowitz said something that didn't surprise me one bit. He said that in that atleast ten years he hasn't met a person of my ethnicity in such a good shape. To not sound like a racist or a prejudice Dr. Horowitz said Mr. Walker keep up the good work. Underneath the thank you with a cheesy smile I said okay doc, you shock that I was a person of African descent, born and raised in the U.S. who knew how to stay in shape and take care of himself.
Black men are twice as likely to die before age sixty due to a heart-attack or a stroke. Why is this? This is due to not just the lack of healthier food options but caused by societal anxiety. To avoid confusion being black in America causes fatal causalities, especially for black men.
Although my family tree descends out of the Carolinas I strayed away from their generational horrific habits (dietary consumption being one of them).
If a person wants to eat McDonald's or Burger King it's fine with me. If a person wants to eat nothing but red meat with a side Pepsi than it's fine with me. If a person wants to eat nothing but junk food than it's fine with me. My point here is that we are what we eat. In other words what we consume is a reflection of what and who we are. Go eat what you may. I have no problem with it whatsoever.
Ahhh! The latrophobia is over and my appointment with a doctor is complete. Deeper down the rabbit hole you go.
No comments:
Post a Comment