Man Bits and Mono

I got home last Thursday morning just in time to send the wee ones off to Ex-Hole's for a five day holiday. Littlest, who's 12, came home horribly ill on Tuesday night. By Wednesday morning, after hours of vomiting and coughing and keeping everyone up all night, I was desperate to take him to the doctor.

"Doctor's Service, may I help you?" asks the (not) helpful woman on the other end of the line. After hemming and hawing for twenty minutes and insisting that there were no doctors available for a week, she finally books me in with the nurse. Two hours later, the phone rings.

"Erm, sorry to tell you this, but the nurse doesn't see sick children," says a different woman on the other end of the line.

What the hell? Have you ever heard of such a thing, a family practice nurse that doesn't see sick children? What on God's green earth does she do then? Twenty minutes later, another appointment booked... with the doctor this time.

(Back story: The last time Littlest was in having his annual physical, I had just finished replacing a leaky garbage disposal and faucet in the kitchen. The Doctor had asked Littlest how his "plumbing" was working. Littlest responded with "Well, Mum just fixed it all up, so it didn't leak anymore." Cue baffled and concerned looks on the part of the good Doctor til I explained 1) to the Doctor, and 2) to Littlest what the Doctor was actually asking. More baffled looks on the part of Littlest.)

Fast forward to today. Finally got Littlest in to see his doctor. Having taken the Doctor aside beforehand, I asked him to check out Littlest's "plumbing" to see if it were growing as it should, since we were in there anyway. Being that I work in healthcare, I tend to roll everything I can into one visit. It's easier on my patience and on my wallet. So hey, might as well check out the man bits while you're checking out everything else, right?

The Doctor listened to his heart, lungs, palpated his spleen and abdomen, and did a cursory glance down the pants. Diagnosis: mono and the man bits are normal. Not satisfied with the cursory glance, given the importance of the thing in question, I asked again, "Are you sure everything's growing as it should?" I mean, come on now, the boy's going to want to have ahem, relations one day, and I want to make sure it's a possibility and that his poor wife can tell what's happening when it does.

The Doctor sighed. "Okay, Mum, come on over and have a look yourself." He glanced down at Littlest, lying bravely on the table. "Sorry, Son." He proceeds to un-pants Littlest, stretch his man bits out, and give me a breakdown on the anatomy of said man bits (with man bits in hand.)

Having gone over in detail that everything was functioning, growing. and looking as it should, he nods to Littlest, tells him to get dressed, and leaves the room.

Littlest just looks up at me.

"Well, that was weird."

For me too, kid, me too.


(Let it be noted, that if his future wife ever complains about their sex life, it won't be because I didn't do my part.)