I love my new gynecologist. Yes, I realize that’s weird.
This morning, I had a follow-up to an appointment I had on July 8, exactly one month ago today.
Dr. Chen: “Good to see you again.”
Me: “Say, were you with Dr. Morrison back in March of 2009?” I held up my memoir in my right hand.
Dr. Chen: “Yes, I worked there from 2007 to 2011. I loved Dr. Morrison.”
Me: “Me, too. Loved that man. He delivered two of my babies. And I knew it. Dr. Morrison was out the day I came in and you were the one that told me I had advanced cancer. By the way, are you from China?” The poor guy. We were supposed to be discussing my nether regions, and I was peppering him with questions.
Dr. Chen: “Yes, I am.”
Me: “Phew. Okay.” I read from page 3 of my book, “Dr. Chen was a short, Chinese man who didn’t look to be any older than 20…”
Dr. Chen: *laughed really loud*
Me (repeating myself): “I knew it was you that told me I had cancer.”
Dr. Chen (getting us back on track): “I’d like to do a biopsy. Today, if possible.”
Me: “I can’t. I’m assuming it’s going to hurt and I have praise-team practice tonight and I have to play on Sunday.” 
