The Diagnosis

Months passed, and nothing improved.

My doctors offered little hope. I asked for a consultation with my general practitioner, cardiologist, gastroenterologist, nephrologist, proctologist, urologist, and general surgeon to all be in attendance.

The facts were simple. Weight loss, lack of energy, and mental acuity have become problems for the patient.

Being the patient and not having any more patience in figuring out the cause of the distress, I had high hopes for this consultation.  My board-certified general practitioner chaired the meeting.

Being doctors and used to being in charge, they all started to talk at once.

“The CT scan was negative.”

“Blood work turned out normal as could be.”

“I looked from head to toe, couldn’t find anything wrong.”

“Well, he is pushing seventy-nine. How am I supposed to operate if I can't find anything to operate on?"

My GP took control of the meeting. “It’s very clear the problem with how specialists look at patients limits you to one area of expertise. On the other hand, I look at the whole patient. Additionally, I considered your observations and used them in part to arrive at a diagnosis.”

I should point out that my GP is a lovely young woman named Natalie Hart. You may think I’m politically incorrect in referring to her as such. When did telling the truth become politically incorrect? I’ve seen her, and you haven’t.

The specialists, all men in their mid-fifties, turned their heads and eyes, smiling at the confident young woman. They were no doubt waiting to jump on what would be the wrong diagnosis.

“His problems are the result of several years without feminine supervision.”

It could be argued that the specialists were not fools. But collectively, the six men had eleven marriages and fourteen kids. They had never experienced the patients' problems and realized they had indeed received feminine supervision throughout their lives. 

The cardiologist looked at the lovely Dr. Hart. “Where did you come up with that?”

“It's a well-known medical fact when men lose feminine supervision, problems develop. It’s been over six years since his wife died. Did any of you know that?”

The urologist asked, “Did you consider depression?”

Rolling her eyes, Dr. Hart replied, “Without feminine supervision, all men are depressed. Are any of you depressed?” 

Suspicious, the specialists thought this might be a trick question. Slowly, each head shook negatively.

The gastrologist said, “So, we just need to find him a woman. I have a mother-in-law I would like to introduce him to.”

The nephrologist piped up, “I can see how this can be an important medical condition that requires much more study, but I agree we need to find him a woman. Even if it's only a short-term solution.”  

The cardiologist scratched his chin. “Well, it’s a medical condition. Medicare will cover it.”

I looked at the lovely Dr. Hart. “Really, you want me to use Medicare and these 'specialists’ to find a woman? Look, I’ve had offers. A lady in our over fifty-five aged, restricted condos gave me some chocolate for Christmas last week.”

Seeing hope for her patient, Dr. Hart had a smile that looked like a hundred watts.

I continued, “Of course, it was a leftover chocolate, Easter Bunny.”

Dr. Hart’s smile lost about ninety-five watts. “Terry, it’s the thought that counts.”

“In that case, I should tell you about Lou Ann. She was one of my wife’s friends. She told me the other day she was tired of working.

“She said she wants to find a man to care for her, and she will make him the happiest man on Earth. She batted her eyes at me when she said it.”

Dr. Hart inquired, “How old is Lou Ann?” 

“Oh, twenty years younger or so.” 

“And you say she batted her eyes?”

“Dr. Hart, technically, it appeared as a text on my new iPhone. The one with the artificial intelligence.  She used batted-eye emojis.”

The cardiologist spoke, “A younger woman might give you more vigor and longer life. What did you tell her?”

“Doc, I’m always honest. I told her I had no interest in adopting a woman.”

The cardio man followed up. “Did you suggest you might be interested in a short-term rental?”

Dr. Hart looked at her colleague. “No wonder you have had three wives. Terry, don’t listen to him. We need to find you some feminine supervision; otherwise, this will not end well.”

“Dr. Hart, how long do I have?”

“Without feminine supervision, I suggest you eat that chocolate Easter bunny now.”

“So, my choices are to find a woman or a hospice?”

The cardiologist, not one to give up easily, said, “You need to consider my second wife. Her supervision would be personable and more effective than hospice, albeit shorter, but a lot more fun. Plus, I’ll help her bill Medicare—no cost to you. I’ll text her number.”