Hot Doctor and Swimsuit Shopping

My neurologist appointment today took an unexpected turn when the hot intern walked in with Dr. Arnason. I've never seen a doctor this hot...I'm talking mega-fine! I completely missed his name when he was introduced by Dr. Arnason, but caught my breath in time to hear that he was someday going to be a neurologist and somewhat jokingly commended him for his place of honor at the University of Chicago Hospital.

He listen to my history which was given to him by the senior doctor in attendance - at least I think he listened. I've never been so self-conscious in front of a doctor. I couldn't look at him in the eye. When Dr. Arnason left to get blood results from my last visit, Hot Intern followed him. Thank goodness we weren't in the room together alone. Given a brief moment alone, I managed to clear my head. But then he came back in and smiled at me. Darnit! I forgot everything I wanted to ask. Except that nagging question about his phone number . . . would that be horribly inappropriate right now? I ran down the list of medically related questions in my head; taking every will I possess not to turn and stare. Soon the senior doctor had stopped talking - I really hoped I'd caught everything he said - and it was time for my exam. When my shirt went up slightly above my waist, I felt my hands tugging it down. When the doctor pushed my pant-legs up, a horrifying realization . . . "I didn't shave this morning!!!" Thank goodness that was over before I could look to see if Hot Intern even looked at my legs - which I'm sure he did.

All too soon Dr. Arnason was departing again to retrieve the requested blood work . . . leaving Hot Intern and I alone. What now? I turned slightly so my back was not towards him, but still did not make eye contact. But then he began this brief interlude of conversation:

"Seems like you've been through a ton." his tone suggested that of conversation only to break the dead air.
"Yeah, but I'm doin' okay everything considered" I replied, slowly gaining the confidence to look at him.
"So do you go to school here?" he questioned in a slightly different tone.
"Huh?" I was dumbfounded but recovered quickly, "oh, no. I graduated last year from NIU."
"I see," he said . . . was that disappointment I say on his adorable face?
"I tried grad school in AZ, but that's when I went on the narcotics and things got bad"
"Oh, I'm sorry" he said now with a very inexperienced doctoral tone.
"Eh, what'ddya do?"and with that the conversation ended as the older doctor entered the room.

We all looked at the test results. . . Hot Intern looked at the copy I held in my hand. I was shaking...I hope he couldn't tell. I was still trying to figure out how to get his number while information about new medication and surgery prospects came from the older doctor. Was I comprehending all of this? I might never know. All I know is that if by some miracle I ever see Hot Intern again, I'm not going to waste any time in getting his digits!

(For all of you who care about the actual outcome of the visit, I'm starting a new medication that I can't recall the name of and he still wants to do an MRI in the future but we're waiting until at least April to talk about it again. You all know how much I love waiting!)

One thing I learned today: when you have a great experience, for example, meeting a gorgeous medical student who could, in some fantasy world, become your husband, don't ruin the day by going swimsuit shopping!