I’m almost as healthy as the healthiest president ever
My annual physical is next month, and I already dread the slick gloved finger probing, the other pokey stuff, and violation of any last shred of dignity I pathetically cling to.
In preparation, I’ve started composing the letter that I’ll dictate from my car for my doctor to sign.
I’m not trying to fool the electorate that I’m a strapping Adonis, easily robust enough to satisfy the incessant demands of Aphrodite, let alone Stormy and other pulchritudinous lovelies who catch my eye and fancy, while I exaggerate the maladies of my opponent who should be in jail anyway.
No, I just don’t want my health insurance to spike again when the president and GOP Congress kick the last leg from under Obamacare to prove once and for all it doesn’t work.
So I’m “doctoring” the most successful model of a health assessment ever dictated by a patient to his personal physician (e.g., Donald Trump to Dr. Harold Bornstein) to craft bullet points for what my doctor should say and sign.
Here’s a draft of what I want my doctor to emphasize:
· I have been the personal physician for Jeffrey Denny since the implementation of the Affordable Care Act in 2014. His previous physician, given the denial of insurance then because as a human being Mr. Denny is the living embodiment of a preexisting condition, was an avatar in a white doctor coat on WebMD.
· I am pleased to report that quite far from having any significant medical problems — or even a couple of minor skin things we can burn off in a few minutes in spite of his never, ever, using sun block — Mr. Denny’s health is equivalent to, nay, vastly superior to, an Olympic medalist’s (without doping because he certainly doesn’t need it to bring home gold especially from Equestrian Dressage because let’s face it, the horse is doing most of the work).
· Mr. Denny’s last complete medical examination showed … well, let’s just say “positive results” would be damning with faint praise. Actually, his blood pressure is beyond astonishingly excellent — it’s consistent with that of a lifelong endurance runner who’s also a professional weight-lifter and vegan non-GMO eater, i.e., just above a cadaver’s, known in the medical profession as the “sweet spot”.
· In the past 12 months, Mr. Denny has lost at least a negative few pounds. He takes a low dose of aspirin and statin daily merely as a precaution given his thrice daily consumption of Hardee’s Monster Thickburgers, which have 1,420 calories and 107 grams of fat each, providing him the minimum weekly requirement in a single day because he eats efficiently to save time.
· Mr. Denny has suffered no form of cancer, has never had a hip, knee or shoulder replacement, or any recent orthopedic surgery because he’s been putting off fixing that tennis-related meniscus tear for so long he can’t use the kneeler during the Catholic mass he rarely — correction never — attends.
· His cardiovascular status is so excellent that a team from the United Network for Organ Sharing commissioned a special medical van to follow him around. Not hoping he’ll die, of course, but if he should, for instance, if the UNOS van “accidentally” runs him over, the oldest living dictators led by Paul Biya of Cameroon, Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo from Equatorial Guinea, Ali Khamenei from Iran and Nursultan Nazarbayev from Kazakhstan would be happy to have his heart beating in their chests to continue “managing” their people.
· He has plenty of history of using alcohol and tobacco products, with a penchant for 16-year authentic Islay smoky-peaty single malt scotch, 20-year Taylor Fladgate tawny port, and Cuban cigars from the Dominican Republic that make him dizzy and reek. Far from affecting his health, these pleasures have made him stronger and more likely to post Medium pieces that are more fun for him to write than popular among readers.
· His physical strength and stamina are so extraordinary that even Aphrodite, who’s immortal (with no physical limitations thereof), would ask Adonis, who’s mortal (with all the physical limitations thereof), “Hey, this is amazing sweetie, you rock me, but could we take a break and hydrate, stretch a little, check our email, have a snack, and watch a few episodes of “Masters of Sex”?
· Finally, I can state unequivocally that Mr. Denny will be the healthiest individual ever to sit behind a desk in his wretched “office” at home with a cigar and bottomless glass of Islay scotch and write a weak parody of a health assessment dictated by an important patient to his subservient doctor. To be certain, Mr. Denny is almost as healthy as the best president the United States has ever had ever.
· That said, I can only vouch for Mr. Denny’s physical health. His mental health is a different doctor’s problem and another glowing diagnosis he’ll need to dictate.
Jeffrey Denny is a Washington writer