Doctors Without Boundaries implies a much different charity.

In an embarrassment of first world riches, I got super-dupes frustrated when trying to go through my insurance co’s website to pick a doctor recently. Way too many categories, y’all. Narrow search by when he/she received their degree? Whatever. I’ve known some great 160-year old physicians and some shitty Doogie Howser-types. I could care less about those kinds of things. Really, when it comes down to it, I just want someone who smiles.

Have you ever seen a doctor who didn’t smile? It’s unpleasant. If you smile at me, I will be nice to you. And even though I might be the 7,836th patient you’ve seen in the past three hours, maybe I will make this 45 seconds a pleasant interaction for you. Just saying.

If you smile at me, I will be more forthcoming with information. Your furrowed countenance makes you look as if you want to show my temple the business side of a 10-blade. In this case, I will want to make our conversation as quick as possible. “So, Julie, you say that you are having blinding pain in your side?” “Uh, no. Forget it. Never mind. I’ll just go home to die alone in my bathtub.”

If you smile at me, I will think that you care (even if you actually don’t, and I don’t really hold that against you unless this turns out to be a regular-appointment kind of deal). And if I think you care, I will give you the whole story. “Well, I did spend some time in the Amazon a few weeks ago with a balloon of coke crammed up my poo chute, now that you mention it.”

If you smile at me, I will tell my friends good things about you and you will become rich and famous, like Dr. Oz, except with scrub tops that properly cover your biceps.

If you smile at me, I will heed your advice. “No more sticks of butter for breakfast? Okaaaaay, but only because you asked me so nicely.”

So you weren’t Numbero Uno in your class at Prestigious Medical University. I don’t care if you completed a fellowship at Prestigious Medical Center. It doesn’t matter to me that you set up some charity in Random Third World Nation (though, props if you did). Just try to pretend like you care, and I’ll come back to see you.

Unless that’s not what you want. In that case, forget you. Just for that, I’m making an appointment once-a-frickin’-week. You wanna see unpleasant? Just wait til you hear what I’ve been keeping in my bum. Just for you, doc. Just. For. You.

Did I really just write that last sentence?

I’m sorry.

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