It’s a first for me to write about a rectal exam, but this story tells me something about life. I’ve been laughing about it all day.

Six months ago, I went to a new Rheumatologist to handle my diabetes.

Although I am not a well-organized person, I take my two favorite chronic diseases seriously – Diabetes and Heart Disease.

My idea is that if I love them, they will love me. We take care of one another. And I do. I manage my diabetes carefully and diligently. My numbers are excellent, and I have learned a lot about nutrition.

My cardiologist says my heart is good, and I am mindful of what I ask of it.

Six months ago, my diabetes doctor announced his retirement -I’ve gone to him regularly ever since I was diagnosed. I called my cardiologist and asked her for a recommendation for another specialist.

I’ve moved all of my doctors to Saratoga Springs, and all but one are women.

She gave me the name of a great diabetes doctor, another woman. I made an appointment to go see her.

It was an odd exam.  She was not like my previous diabetes doctor.

She wasn’t interested in my diabetes and didn’t want to know about my diabetes medications. She didn’t want to see my diabetes blood meter or look through my history of daily blood counts – I was proud of them.

Generally, my blood readings are 80 to 90, normal or close.

She surprised me by asking me to pull my pants down for a rectal exam.

Men still talk about these rectal exams even if they are not standard procedure these days. I remember them very well.  They are one of the ultimate humbling experiences.

Doctors and nurses rely more on blood work to gauge prostate health these days.

I  hadn’t had a rectal exam in years. I didn’t miss them.

She asked me if  I was uncomfortable having a woman do the test, and I said no, not at all. And I bent over, and she did the test, and it was much as I remember it, quick, uncomfortable and embarrassing, and not because of gender.

It is not a dignified procedure, at least not for the man.

I can’t imagine she liked it much either.

We made another appointment for six months, and even though I was fighting off some bug this morning, I decided to go.  I didn’t want to cancel.

(Zinnia debuted as a sick companion dog, she dozed next to me in bed.)

It’s important to have my diabetes checked, I need to talk about it once or twice a year, stay up to date on nutrition findings and new medications. They are always changing.

When I got to her office today, I handed the receptionist my insurance card, (I asked for a mask in case I was sick) because I have a new primary care physician.

She was puzzled.

“But Drs. D—,” the doctor I was seeing, “is your primary care physician, she does medical check-ups. She gave you a check-up six months ago.”

No, no, I said, my new primary care physician is in Schuylerville, a town near where I live, I just went to see her a few weeks ago. I think the bulb went off in both of our heads at the same time.

“Isn’t she a diabetes specialist, an endocrinologist?,” I asked.

“No, she’s a family physician,” said the receptionist.

“I see,” I said, “that explains the rectal exam.  And why she didn’t want to talk about my blood sugar numbers. I never could figure out why a diabetes doctor would give me a rectal exam.”

The receptionists and I  both cracked up. “I bet you did,” she said.

Well, I said, if I hadn’t given you my new insurance card, I would have had another rectal exam. She canceled my appointment, and I stopped at a Thai restaurant and bought food for dinner. The drive was not a total waste.

So I came home, and could hardly stop laughing. Maria could hardly believe it. We had a good laugh together.

I was abashed that I didn’t spend more time on the mystery of the rectal exam, or connect the dots. But I am glad it was resolved. Perhaps I will never get a rectal exam again.

I called my true primary care physician, and the nurse had a great laugh as well. They are setting me up with a diabetes specialist.

I can’t wait to tell her (or him) the story of my rectal exam. Life is a  hoot sometimes.