I used to not go to a doctor with something as mild as a sinus infection.
But, the last three times I thought I had a sinus infection I found out I didn’t really have a sinus infection.
“Your head hurts because there is a nail sticking out of your forehead,” my doctor told me the first time.
“No way. You’d think I’d notice something like that, wouldn’t you? Where’d you get your medical … Ouch! What was that?” I said.
He showed me the nail.
Then there was the sinus infection in which the doctor told me it wasn’t a sinus infection at all.
“You’ve dislocated your kneecap,” he said.
“But my head hurts,” I told him. Hey, I know my body, okay?
“That’s because you fall every time you try and put weight on that leg,” he said.
Okay, that made sense I guess. I mean, he’s the doctor, right?
“You know, you are a moron, right?” he asked.
The last time I thought I had a sinus infection I wound up with chicken wire and rivets in my chest.
“How is this going to help a sinus infection?” I asked.
“Mmmm … You do know you are a … Never mind.”
So, when I shuffled my way to a doctor Friday because I knew (and I had to be right this time) I had a sinus infection, I was a little concerned when my doctor asked me if I, “had a hankering for brains lately?”
What’s with that?
“Well, you look … Like death. Seriously, I should be sending you to a funeral home,” he said.
I didn’t think I looked that bad. Just to be sure it wasn’t something else, I kinda sniffed my arm pits. Nope, all good there. Although I really couldn’t smell anything.
I know my doctor was thinking, “Zombie.”
Seriously, I’ve had this conversation with him before. We’re both waiting for the zombie apocalypse and we both watch the same documentaries about how to survive it: “The Walking Dead,” and “Zombieland,” and “Shaun of the Dead,” and “Night of the Living Dead (anything, really, by that fine documentary maker George Romero).”
We both know the zombie apocalypse will begin with a “patient zero.”
But “patient zero” is not me.
“You sure I don’t have another nail or something in my head?” I asked.
“No … I think you’re the first walking dead-type person,” he answered.
Before he could go all Rick Grimesy on me I stood up and did a little dance-like shuffle.
Zombies can’t do dance-like shuffles. I know, I’ve watched all the documentaries. When one becomes a zombie they lose all motor control and coordination.
Not that I can dance, but I could move around enough to show that I’m still in control of most of my cerebral to muscle to movement electrodes.
“Okay, I’ll check out your sinuses,” he said. “But if you get all bitey on me I want you to know I have a really big hammer right over there.”
So he checked my ears, looked up my nose, made me open my mouth and say, “Aaaaah,” but I didn’t say, “Aaaaah,” because that sounded too much like a zombie, so I said, “Eeeeee,” because zombies can’t make that sound.
And when he was finished he looked at me and then scratched his head.
“Go figure. You really do have a sinus infection. You finally got it right.”
Oh, plus and ear infection. Yeah, and bronchitis.
“No wonder you look dead,” he said. “I gave you a couple of prescriptions and and I’ll have the nurse come in and give you a shot.”
Oooooh, I like nurses. Except for that one with a brother who’s an undertaker.
She’s always trying to stir up business for him.
After about 15 minutes the nurse came in and let me tell you …
She had some fine-looking brains.