Skin Check
I'm doing this post late because I had to go to the dermatologist before work today.
I go every year. What can I say? I'm Irish, with red hair and freckles. My grandmother had a melanoma removed from her face in the 1960's. My dad's had three of them over the years, not to mention a variety of less serious types of skin cancer. I've already had a basal cell cancerous growth cut off of one shoulder, and a couple of pre-cancerous little blips on my face. They're hard to distinguish from the gobs and gobs of freckles.
It's no big deal. I just go every year and strip down for the dermatologist and let him have a look-see. Now, nobody likes getting naked for a doctor, but I've had three babies, and I'm a nurse after all. I think that's supposed to give me the go-ahead to tear off my clothes any time, any place, with wild abandon, so long as someone flashes a medical license.
But this doctor has to do a skincheck, which is an embarrassingly thorough examination of every bit of my epidermis (you know, all the parts of it that are showing). I'd like to flash him small portions at a time and keep the rest covered snugly under those lovely ass-peeping gowns they're kind enough to provide, but he'll have none of that.
He wants to see all of it at once. First front, then we flip to the back. So every year I peel off the gown. And every year he says, "Man, you're white!"
Now, normally I wouldn't bother to mention a person's race, but I think here it lends some context. See, this doc is African American, and when he stands there gaping at the paleness of my whiteness, I'm not sure how, exactly, I should respond.
He then asks me to turn over, which is bad enough on its own. But then he says it again. "God. You. Are. So. White."
Yeah, I think. Um-humm. Got it.
Really, what am I supposed to say? "Gee, thanks," or "I know, I'm so sorry."
He might as well be standing there laughing and pointing or whispering to his nurse. I mean, what would he say if I looked him square in the eye (or ass, as he is probably looking at my big, pale, white one that very moment), and said, "Yes dude, and you are so very black. What do you think we should do, write a song about it?"
Maybe this would've been the year I actually said it.
But this year, things would be different. The doctor was overbooked, and I was only too happy to schedule an appointment with his nurse practitioner, a woman.
I really didn't think it mattered if she was black, white, yellow, or polka dotted. I'd have bet anything she wouldn't stand there mocking my freckled, pale, Irish lack of pigmentation.
Women, I believe, are just more sensitive about these kinds of things (translation: she'd at least wait until I got my clothes back on, paid the bill, and walked out the door). At least that's what I was hoping. And I think that's what happened.
I didn't hear any whispering as I left the office. But you never know.
I go every year. What can I say? I'm Irish, with red hair and freckles. My grandmother had a melanoma removed from her face in the 1960's. My dad's had three of them over the years, not to mention a variety of less serious types of skin cancer. I've already had a basal cell cancerous growth cut off of one shoulder, and a couple of pre-cancerous little blips on my face. They're hard to distinguish from the gobs and gobs of freckles.
It's no big deal. I just go every year and strip down for the dermatologist and let him have a look-see. Now, nobody likes getting naked for a doctor, but I've had three babies, and I'm a nurse after all. I think that's supposed to give me the go-ahead to tear off my clothes any time, any place, with wild abandon, so long as someone flashes a medical license.
But this doctor has to do a skincheck, which is an embarrassingly thorough examination of every bit of my epidermis (you know, all the parts of it that are showing). I'd like to flash him small portions at a time and keep the rest covered snugly under those lovely ass-peeping gowns they're kind enough to provide, but he'll have none of that.
He wants to see all of it at once. First front, then we flip to the back. So every year I peel off the gown. And every year he says, "Man, you're white!"
Now, normally I wouldn't bother to mention a person's race, but I think here it lends some context. See, this doc is African American, and when he stands there gaping at the paleness of my whiteness, I'm not sure how, exactly, I should respond.
He then asks me to turn over, which is bad enough on its own. But then he says it again. "God. You. Are. So. White."
Yeah, I think. Um-humm. Got it.
Really, what am I supposed to say? "Gee, thanks," or "I know, I'm so sorry."
He might as well be standing there laughing and pointing or whispering to his nurse. I mean, what would he say if I looked him square in the eye (or ass, as he is probably looking at my big, pale, white one that very moment), and said, "Yes dude, and you are so very black. What do you think we should do, write a song about it?"
Maybe this would've been the year I actually said it.
But this year, things would be different. The doctor was overbooked, and I was only too happy to schedule an appointment with his nurse practitioner, a woman.
I really didn't think it mattered if she was black, white, yellow, or polka dotted. I'd have bet anything she wouldn't stand there mocking my freckled, pale, Irish lack of pigmentation.
Women, I believe, are just more sensitive about these kinds of things (translation: she'd at least wait until I got my clothes back on, paid the bill, and walked out the door). At least that's what I was hoping. And I think that's what happened.
I didn't hear any whispering as I left the office. But you never know.
I switched from a male to female gyno cause the male doc seemed obsessed with my weight.
"You've gained TWO pounds!."
Posted by: Pseudo | June 26, 2009 at 06:56 PM
You know, that's funny. But I'm not sure it makes it OK. What he said I mean.
Posted by: LPC | June 26, 2009 at 07:06 PM
I totally get your embarrassment. It's the turn your head and cough type of embarrassment. Great post. Only one question. Must one really have a medical license for you to rip off your clothes with wild abandon? PS. My black husband says, "boy, you're white" on a daily basis. I can't change my pigmentation, so I accept it as a compliment.
Posted by: Mommy With a Penis | June 26, 2009 at 07:30 PM
So would it be ok, then, for a white doctor to say "Wow, you sure are BLACK" to an African American patient?
Posted by: Uppity | June 26, 2009 at 11:15 PM
My oldest daughter gets that response all the time--the rest of us tan and freckle and she just freckles. I know she sure gets sick of it.
Posted by: Jenn @ Juggling Life | June 27, 2009 at 12:03 AM
Knowing only what you have written here, my guess is that he has been making a clinical observation with no judgment attached.
But I would totally have shot back, "Man, you are black!" just to see if he would laugh.
However. Some docs have no sense of humor. I nervously said something as the doc (a flight surgeon forced to take on other stuff because the base was closing) was doing my pelvic for the Peace Corps: "You haven't even bought me dinner!" He very coldly responded, "It's JUST a job."
Well duh. But sir, you are a man I met three seconds ago and your hands are in my hoo-hah, so it is just a little uncomfortable for me, OK?
Posted by: class factotum | June 27, 2009 at 08:54 AM
That's hysterical...
I went to see the OB when I was pregnant and I've never quite gotten used to the whole 'examination', so I'm there with my feet in the stirups- but with my knees together. My doctor says, "relax".."I AM relaxed" through clenched teeth. "Relax". OK, I can do this, I relax my legs a little. He nedges them open more, "RELAX!" At which point I say, "This isn't the highlight of my day."
He rises up from between my thighs, looks me square in the eyes and says, "And you think it's mine?"
I love my doctor...never had a problem with that again.
:-)
Posted by: Nancy McDonnell | June 27, 2009 at 09:31 AM
Hmmm, not sure I would appreciate that comment. BTW he'd be saying the same about me, I guess, being a redhead and all. I gotta say I have left doctors I felt were a little too friendly; not that I could put my finger on anything that was said but just seemed a little too familiar and I didn't like it. And it was a dermatologist, too! I want to be treated like a person but I don't need that type of comment.
Posted by: Sandy | June 27, 2009 at 05:16 PM
OMG That is so rude of him! Even if he doesn't mean it like that he needs to just STFU. It's embarrassing enough having to be completely naked in front of a doctor and examined from head to foot, but for any comment of any kind to be made is just WRONG.
You see, you've just nailed the exact main reason I don't go see a dermatologist. Its the cackling laughter of how godawful my body is that would follow me down the hall that deters me. You know they laugh; you know they do. They're "professional" while in the room but at the end of the day with a margarita or two under their belts...it's all "OMG did you SEE that woman's bod? You know the one; the 2:00? Holy crap, she needs to step away from the donuts. I haven't seen anything that jiggly since I last ate some jello. And the stretch marks. My god."
Come on. You know they do.
Thanks for stopping by my blog! I love yours, too. :)
Posted by: Midlife Mama | June 28, 2009 at 04:26 PM
I have to say I have a problem with doctors that make ANY comments like that. It's very difficult for people to go to the doctor. It's embarrassing, or scary, or sometimes both; and I think that what they might look at as a little ice breaking joke, doesnt always come out they way they intend.
I vote for the "yes and you're soooo black" comment. I think he'll get the point!
Posted by: GiGi @ Incrementum | June 28, 2009 at 04:33 PM
I have an award up for you today...
Posted by: LPC | June 28, 2009 at 07:03 PM
I have a little something for you on my blog!
Posted by: Joanie M | June 29, 2009 at 03:09 AM
This made me laugh...and I agree. You should comment on his black as pitchness. I have a butcher at my local market...we're friends in passing. He's an incredibly tall, very shy, skinny black dude. I'd been dealing with him for about two years with no words passing our lips except for me asking for various animal parts. Our friendship started one day when he said, "You have a great tan". (I'm a redhead who tans...my Greek genes, I guess)...I smiled back and said, "So do you".
Posted by: Jill | June 29, 2009 at 08:41 AM
"Come on. You know they do."
I'm not sure. I have a friend who is a doc and I've asked her about this. I think after so many years of examining bodies as parts and diseases and conditions, they become pretty detached. Sure, there might be a few jerks out there, as there are in any profession, but I really do think most of them see our "parts" as just their job.
Not that most male docs probably wouldn't prefer firm, 21-year-old parts, but they are still human. :)
Posted by: class factotum | June 29, 2009 at 09:25 AM