This is the conversation I had this morning with the nurse, Sue, at my doctor’s office.  I explained the basic situation to her, and asked what she thought I should do.  We went on from there:

Her:  Well, it’s probably a virus, and you know, there’s nothing we can do about that anyway. 

Me: Yes, I know — but  I was wondering whether you have any suggestions as to how I can make myself a bit more comfortable; I’m in a lot of pain.

Her: Pain?

Me: Yes — it hurts.  That kind of pain.

Her:  Well, that’s kind of strange with a virus.  Do you also have (symptom too nasty to specify in writing)?

Me:  I did yesterday, but it doesn’t seem to be happening today.

Her: How about (something equally revolting)?

Me:  Yes, I have that.

Her: Well, we could try to  fit you in this afternoon.

Me:  The challenge, as I’ve already told you, is that I don’t see how I can possibly make the trip to your office, due to the extreme, sudden, and voluminous nature of the problem.  Is it possible for you to call in a prescription that might slow things down sufficiently for me to take a twenty-minute car trip without having an accident?

Her: Did you try the over the counter stuff?

Me:  Yes; I took twice the recommended dose, with no apparent result.

Her:  There’s nothing more we can give you.  Do you want to come in?

Me: Do you think I should?

Her: Well honey, I don’t know.  Do you think it’s a virus?

Me:  I don’t know; that’s why I called to ask you.  I am reluctant to subject someone’s car, and your waiting room, to a potential sanitary disaster only to be told that it’s a virus and you can’t do anything.  On the other hand, I am equally reluctant to die of amoebic dysentery or God knows what else.  Any suggestions?

Her:  You could get some Depends and hope for the best.

Me: (after a moment spent thinking that this must be exactly what it’s like to  be old, and at the mercy of people who don’t seem to really care about your dignity) Maybe I’ll just see how I feel tomorrow.

Post Scriptum to Conversation:

Me: So, Mom,  I’ve decided not to go … I actually think the trauma and humiliation would make the whole thing worse.  Plus, I just can’t imagine taking that kind of risk with your car … I don’t know how well Depends work, after all.

My Mom: Oh honey, don’t worry about that.  We’d take your car.