Destination, Unashamed

Notes on composure and supermodel doctors.

Image courtesy of Shutterstock.com

What a week I’ve had.

After badly injuring my shoulder, I had to surrender to seeing an orthopedic specialist. My pain management doctor referred me to a doctor in Manhattan.

First time visits to doctors are mind-numbingly awful, but as soon as I arrived at the office, I was hopeful. Nobody handed me 12 pages of forms to fill out and the check-in was quick.

I had an X-ray. The technician had worked at VCU in Richmond, Virginia, so he and I became instant friends and congratulated ourselves on getting to New York. Afterwards I was immediately taken to another room by a nurse, saw a PA for a preliminary exam, and waited just a couple of minutes for the doctor.

She walked in, and my breath left me.

She was one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.

She had on highly fashionable shoes with pointy toes and glasses that probably cost a thousand bucks. They suited her face perfectly. She was at least six feet tall, very slim, with flawless and luminous skin. Big blue eyes, and naturally curly ash-blond hair pulled back from a face with shockingly good bone structure.

It was like being next to a goddess.