Summary

An elderly patient recounts his experience with a series of proctologists, culminating in an encounter with the exceptionally handsome and charismatic Dr. Weiner, who surprisingly reveals his genuine passion for his profession.

Abstract

The narrative begins with the patient's recollection of his positive experiences with his late proctologist, Dr. Benschmuck, and his decision to consult Dr. Benschmuck's wife, a seasoned Doctor's Assistant, for a prescription after the doctor's passing. The medication she provides, however, exacerbates his condition. The patient then receives a solicitation from Dr. Weiner, who has apparently acquired Dr. Benschmuck's patient list. Upon visiting Dr. Weiner's upscale office, the patient is struck by the doctor's movie-star good looks and commanding presence. Despite his initial skepticism, the patient is won over by Dr. Weiner's professionalism and bedside manner. The story concludes with the patient's candid question about Dr. Weiner's career choice, to which the doctor responds with an unexpected confession of his genuine enjoyment of his work.

Opinions

The patient has a nostalgic fondness for his previous proctologist, Dr. Benschmuck, and trusts his wife's medical advice due to her long-term experience.
The patient is initially skeptical of Dr. Weiner, especially after receiving an ineffective prescription from Dr. Benschmuck's wife.
The patient is impressed by the luxurious and professional atmosphere of Dr. Weiner's office, as well as the staff's attire and demeanor.
Dr. Weiner is portrayed as an exceptionally attractive and self-assured individual who takes pride in his work.
The patient is surprised and somewhat amused by Dr. Weiner's candid admission that he enjoys his work as a proctologist, a profession that might not be

He Could Have Been Anything

Sitting behind his desk was the doctor; he looked like someone very special.

Part of the benefits of being a grandfather is that you get a chance to have hemorrhoids and spend as much time in the bathroom as you need.

Your kids have graduated to their own homes with their own kids pounding on the door while they’re trying to relax; having their own elimination problems.

Because of a recurring problem, I called a proctologist that I had gone to many years ago. He was good on the bedside manner and I don’t know how any doctor could make the experience close to pleasant.

Besides, the time had dimmed the pain he hath wrought.

Anyway, I preferred to see the doctor I knew to the doctor I didn’t with such a personal matter.

I called up Dr. Benschmuck and got his long-time assistant and office manager--his wife.

In hushed tones, she informed me that doctor had passed away just two weeks ago.

I expressed my profound condolences. After the required conversation about what a wonderful humanitarian her husband was, I asked her if she could recommend anyone to whom I should go for a similar problem I’d seen Dr. Benschmuck for some 15 years go.

She replied that she had been a Doctor’s Assistant for 50 years and she knew more about rectal matters than any of these young colorectal surgeons!

Referring to proctologist by the newer term defining the profession. A term that I suspected she never fully accepted.

The Doctor’s Assistant said she’d write me a prescription for a stool softener on an old piece of script and sign Doctor’s name just as she used to do when Doctor was alive.

My condition was such that almost any solution seemed to make sense. I took her up on her offer.

Whatever med she prescribed had the opposite effect to what was called for.

After a miserable week, I got an announcement from Dr. Weiner, a colorectal rectal surgeon. Apparently, he had purchased Dr, Benshmuck’s patient list.

The announcement didn’t exactly say purchase but I read between the lines.

I made an appointment with Dr. Weiner for later that week. My visit with him couldn’t come fast enough.

Upon entering Dr. Weiner’s posh office, I was greeted by a receptionist adorned in what appeared to be a designer dress. After waiting a short time a nurse wearing what I could only describe as a crisp uniform lead me into his inner sanctum. His office was beautiful; genuine oriental rug, Herman Miller desk, chairs, and, get this,a mounted mahogany elk head on the wall in the back of the desk.

After a short solitary wait, the door opened and Dr. Weiner dramatically made his appearance.

He owned the moment.

Attired, as opposed to dress, in a beige safari suit complete with a wide-brimmed hat, he introduced himself.

I’ve been around long enough to be a grandfather and I’ve never seen anyone as close to perfect as Dr. Weiner.

He may have been the most handsome man I’ve ever seen from the audience side of a movie screen.

In his light beige safari suit, he positively glowed.

His matter, very relaxed, bespoke of someone who is used to taking command in a way that’s welcomed; not resented.

As he was performing his appointed mission on my posterior, he relaxed me with a continuous flow of conversation.

As we were recapping in his office after the examination was over, a thought came to my mind.

This man could be anything.

He could be a movie star, the mayor, the governor, the president, anything!

He could be King of America!

Why would he spend his days exploring the arseholes belonging to assholes like me?

I couldn’t help myself; I had to do it; it just came out; I was powerless;

Dr. Weiner, why do you do what you do for a living?

silence.

Silence!

SILENCE!

Brian, you may not believe this — but I like it.

The end — nothing more.

This story was formerly in Illumination-Curated