At the end of a long day, some of our members will get tired and yesterday a woman who has been with us for many years turned to me and said, “Oh, I could just take a nap right now.” I’ll call her Ms. Montana.
So I told her she looked sleepy, but sitting next to me was another member, let’s call him Dr. Singer, and he said, “You know, if you come visit me in my office, we could diagnose the problem and help you to not be so sleepy.” Of course, Dr. Singer no longer practices, but often he talks as if he’s still in the prime of his career. Somtimes he can be a little rude about diagnosing people (”You may have sephilus.”), but today he was very respectable, like an earnest physician that I hope he once was.
“You see, we can do the blood work, and find out what is making you sleepy. There may be some obesity in the blood.” I love hearing him talk because he has a Count Dracula type accent.
Ms. Montana was a little astonished. “Are you saying I’m fat?!!”
“Well, if it is the obesity in the blood, we can put you on a program and help you lose the weight so you feel much better.” Dr. Singer replied gently and encouragingly. “You know, you can lose the weight!”
“But I’m not fat! I don’t care if I am fat!”
Dr. Singer really encouraged her, without any hint of rudeness, “It’s okay, you can lose it!”
“Well, what if I don’t mind if I”m fat?” Ms. Montana asked.
“Do you know how much you weigh?”
“I don’t know how much I weigh?”
“You don’t know! You never get a check up?” Of course, even if Ms. Montana did get a check up, she couldn’t remember what they told her anyway.
“Well, I probably weigh 125 pounds.”
“Ohhhhh! No, you must weight at least one seventy five, maybe one hundred eighty pounds.”
“No way, you’re outta your mind, Dr.” Ms. Montana replied with an excited tone.
“Well,” said Dr. Singer, “we can go back in that room and you can show me with your skin how much you weigh.”
At this point I couldn’t let this go on any longer! I told the good Dr. that this was not a clinic and that since other people are in the room, we cannot go on with a diagnosis due to privacy violations. He agreed and said that he was dropping the issue with her.
A few moments later, though, Ms. Montana wouldn’t let it go. “So you think I’m fat, Dr.?”
“Oy, I told you I’m not talking about it anymore. The nice director here (me) says we cannot continue with our appointment.”
“Well even if I am fat, all I care is that I’m happy and healthy. I don’t care if I’m fat.”
I held my breath at this point, hoping the good Dr. would play nice all the way to the end, but it was inevitable. Ms. Montana had left the door wide open for a disparaging remark.
“You don’t care if you’re fat, it shows.”
Oy vey! I’m thankful that’s the end of this conversation. Although I was super impressed our Dr. was so polite and encouraging through his conversation.
