In order to be fully matriculated into AUC, Andrew had to pass a physical exam. Rachel and I were out walking the other day and we were right by our clinic, so we stopped in to make him a doctor's appointment. As luck would have it, we were able to get him an appointment for Friday of this week.
So yesterday he took his little form and went to the doctor's before work.
Since his was the first appointment of the day he didn't have to wait long, so he was immediately called into a room to wait, instead of waiting in the lobby.
The doctor walked into the room, looked Andrew up and down and said,
"So, you're here for a physical...is it for scout camp or your mission?"
Andrew went red. He has a tendency to do that when he's embarrassed.
"Neither, it's for grad school," said Andrew.
"In Egypt," he clarified when the doctor didn't quite get it. Apparently most grad schools don't require a physical in order to attend.
They continued to talk about grad school and Egypt throughout the examination. Andrew asked about pills for traveler's diarrhea.
I got so sick when we were in Jordan. I was probably sick for at least half the time we were there, lost a lot of weight, and was miserable.
Patrick is in Ghana and was advised to get pills for such things before leaving the country. I thought that was excellent advise, since having traveler's sickness is really not much fun.
The doctor gave us a prescription, but told Andrew that the best thing is just pepto bismol since the bacteria that make foreigners sick are increasingly resilient to the prescription antibiotics.
Having cleared up that concern, the doctor asked if Andrew had any other concerns.
"Well, only West Nile Virus, but we'll be living on the east side of the Nile, so we should be alright," Andrew quipped.
The doctor just stared at him, trying to figure out if he was joking or not, "I don't think that makes a difference..." he started before realizing that it was, in fact, a joke.
Now it was the doctor's turn to feel a little silly. Andrew didn't keep the upperhand for long, though, because he's the patient and the doctor is the doctor. Doctors have such power in their office.
"Close your eyes and put your arms out in front of you," the doctor instructed. Then he started pushing on Andrew's arms.
I assured Andrew that this was to check his balance, but Andrew was not convinced. He was telling me about it when he got home. He was sure the doctor was just beating him up on purpose.
"Yeah," he said, "But then he brought out his little hammer to check my 'reflexes,' and he started hitting me all over the place! I know you have reflexes in your knees, but he hit my ankles, too. And my elbows and my wrists and my shoulders and...I don't even know if I have reflexes in my wrists. Do I have reflexes in my wrist? They didn't do anything..."
The doctor was satisfied, though, and gave Andrew a clean bill of health. Unless he ends up having TB. We'll find out about that on Monday.