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December 2, 2005

Dr. Dave and the Sternum

Dr. Dave was the best. I arrived at his seriously funky office on Clinton Street and we began with a lightening-rod debate about the various possibilities of my malaise. Is it a heart attack, doc? No, not a heart attack. Could it be cancer? No, I would doubt that. How about a blod clot, that could happen? It could but you don't have one. A weird blood disorder? I don't think so. Mitrol valve prolapse? You're pronouncing it all wrong and no. He then sent me out to the pharmacy across the street ("think of it as an intermission," he suggested) to get two bottles of Maalox, one for him and one for me. I came back and he instructed me to drink what seemed like half the bottle and then made me wait five minutes. He thought it might be acid reflex disorder (I mean, doesn't everybody supposidly have this "disorder" these days? How trendy! But I don't want to be trendy, I want to have weird obsqure afflictions that aren't advertised on tv!)... but the only thing the Maalox accomplished was in leaving me with a chalky mustache. Dr. Dave then gave me an EKG, placing little electrodes all over my torso, and hooked me up to a machine. The little meter strip came out perfectly, so as it turns out, I don't have any heart problems. I even got to take home the strip as a souvineir. He then started touching my bare chest (no, not like that) in various places and when he hit my sternum, I discovered that I was in immense, crippling pain. New diagnosis? Possibly a fractured sternum which could be in turn injuring my lungs. He asked me if I participated in any sports and to that I laughed a good laugh. He then suggested it could be from, well, you know what. Hmmm, beat that acid reflux!....So next week I'm getting x-rays and I'm advised to lay off any pressure-bearing activities, wink wink. Good thing is he charged me only $150 for what at a regular (read: blood-sucking) doctor's office would have set me back at least $600. I asked his secretary how he could charge so little and she it was because he was "fantastic" and makes no money but that he doesn't care. It almost makes me want to shed a tear for the fellow. I'd love to write a profile on him. He's truly fascinating, has a wacky but reassuring personality, and offers services that few, if any, doctors do in this city.

Rafe and I are going to the Copacabana tonight for his annual holiday work party. I'm interested in meeting his co-workers, especially the one named Ida Babbitt and the woman who didn't know what hummus was when Rafe said that's what he was bringing to the office potluck. Do you know that song by Barry Manilow about the Copacabana? No? Here are the lyrics, then:

Her name was lola, she was a showgirl
With yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there
She would merengue and do the cha-cha
And while she tried to be a star
Tony always tended bar
Across the crowded floor, they worked from 8 til 4
They were young and they had each other
Who could ask for more?

Chorus:

At the copa (co!) copacabana (copacabana)
The hottest spot north of havana (here)
At the copa (co!) copacabana
Music and passion were always in fashion
At the copa.... they fell in love

His name was rico
He wore a diamond
He was escorted to his chair, he saw lola dancing there
And when she finished,he called her over
But rico went a bit to far
Tony sailed across the bar
And then the punches flew and chairs were smashed in two
There was blood and a single gun shot
But just who shot who?

Repeat chorus

At the copa... she lost her love

Her name is lola, she was a showgirl,
But that was 30 years ago, when they used to have a show
Now it’s a disco, but not for lola,
Still in dress she used to wear,
Faded feathers in her hair
She sits there so refined,and drinks herself half-blind
She lost her youth and she lost her tony
Now she’s lost her mind

Repeat chorus

At the copa... don’t fall in love
Don’t fall in love

Talk about a cautionary tale! That song has been in my head (well, the chorus anyway) since I found out that this is the venue at which we are going to drink egg nog and stand around awkwardly. I hear this song and all I want do is a little dance. But I can't, because I'm at work. And I probably shouldn't anyway, because of my sternum. Ah well...

Posted by debbie at December 2, 2005 2:57 PM

Comments

Posted by: marie at January 24, 2006 1:41 PM