It’s a biennial thing: the physical exam. I like to do it sometime during my birth month because associating the requirement with a “known date” makes it easy to remember and all that. So it was out to the base
hospital clinic today for the first of at least three visits, i.e., initial exam, lab work, results. My Primary Care Physician was recently reassigned, so I got to meet my new Primary Care Guy today, a young captain. Emphasis on “young.” One of the things that continually mystifies and amuses me about aging is the fact that nearly all the authority figures I encounter these days are young enough to be my kids. Gives one pause, it does.
But, back to the matter at hand. My new doctor seems to be a nice guy; he asked all the right questions, has a good bedside manner, in other words, all the right stuff. After our initial interview was over and he was getting ready to leave the exam room he looks at me and says “You know, you sure don’t look 61!” My response was a simple “thank you.” What else can you say? I appreciate it when folks say things like this, even though I know in most cases it’s just polite conversation. But anyway, I thought about this comment all the way home today, considering things such as “what’s a 61 year-old guy supposed to look like?” and “I’m not really 61, not for a couple of few days, at least” and finally decided it was only polite conversation, after all. I mean, I do have a mirror or two. And the damned things just don’t lie.