Let’s get physical

I think the last time I had a physical exam was before I went to high school or college, but either way, it had been way too long ago. I waffled around trying to find a doctor, especially a gay-friendly one, and when I recently found one here in Daly City and in the same building as my dentist, I thought, why not. (And I might as well put my otherwise wasted insurance premiums to use.) He’s really cool, and the practice is pretty small — just him and a couple of assistants — so he spent a fair amount of time with me. Everything checks out, thank goodness, but I do still want to work on lowering my blood pressure and cholesterol.

(I do remember seeing a dermatologist a few years ago for a skin problem. When I made the appointment, the receptionist told me I’d be seeing “Dr. Gayer, like Bayer, but with a B.” And I wanted to say, “Or like more gay.”)

I also saw my dentist recently. I at least kept up with seeing a dentist when I lived in D.C., but I finally got around to making an appointment here at the dental office that my parents and I have been going to since my childhood. It’s funny coming back; everyone knows and remembers me, and my mom had been keeping them updated when I was away.

My teeth are OK for the most part, but I’m going to take care of a long-standing problem: I’m getting a tooth implant to replace a molar that had to be extracted several years ago. So in two weeks, the first stage begins, where they drill a titanium screw into my jaw! (I’ve been considering the whole procedure for years, so really I’m pretty blasé about it now. I’m like, OK, I’ve heard the spiel. Let’s do this thing.) You may soon call me Bionic Mouth.

Maybe I should make an appointment with the optometrist and complete my health care trifecta.