Maybe it's the interested look on my face. Maybe it's the bored look on my face. Whatever it is that encourages people to come into my office, ensconce themselves in a chair and proceed to tell me the most intimate details about their medical issues, I obviously exude it. Note: I am not a doctor. Such visits are thrust upon me, I am the unwillingly party. These people always, always take me by surprise: even when I see them coming. Inevitably they leave my office, their burden unloaded, their problem shared, completely oblivious to the fact that I am left feeling bilious.
James (name not changed). Infection of the urethra. "My ass hurts. It burns when I pee! I don't know how you women do it!" Do what James? "Sit on your bits all day, it's so uncomfortable, it hurts! I had to go for, like a test where they blah blah blah blah...so in case you were, like, wondering why I look so down, this is why. Blah blah." James, I wasn't, like, wondering.
Seriously. Do not. Want. To know.
