Doctor’s Diagnosis
“Mr. Wolfe, what seems to be the problem?” the doctor at the clinic asked.
“Sir, I haven’t been to the bathroom for a week.”
“Here you go,” the doctor said, handing me a prescription. “This is for a powerful laxative. Give it to the nurse as you leave.”
“How much is this going to cost?” I asked nervously, at the front desk.
“This is a free clinic,” the nurse said. “The doctor’s time is donated, the medicines are donated. We ask that you donate whatever you can afford.”
I dropped one of my only two quarters in the donation box before I left.
I was back the next week.
“That laxative must not have been strong enough,” the doctor said. “Take this prescription to the nurse. This one is really powerful.”
As I left I dropped my other quarter in the donation box.
The next week the doctor was shocked to see me again.
“This calls for some research,” he said.
Then he started questioning me about my family and their health. We went all the way back to my grandparents as he questioned me about their digestive systems. I confessed to being pretty ignorant about this subject since I don’t recall bowel movements as ever being a topic of family conversation.
“Let’s try a different angle,” the doctor said. “Maybe it’s something in your work history. What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a musician.”
The doctor laughed and said, “O.K. Now it makes sense.”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out ten dollars and handed it to me.
“Here,” he said. “Go get yourself something to eat.”
