I was at the local park helping with a health fair for the local clinic, when a young man came up to me; he looked like he could be Latino. He had on a dusty pink tank top, and a pair of pink plaid baggy shorts, like those that the skaters wear . . . I probably assumed that, because he had a skate board with him that had Hello Kitty on the back of it. Actually, there was about five or six of the young men all dressed the same, just different colors, all of them hot as hell.
"May I help you?" I asked him, trying not to stare at his shorts.
"How do you know if you have Diabetes?" He asked.
"Well, you ask your Doctor to do a certain blood test, which involves you drinking a special drink, and then, depending on what your doctor orders, they take your blood on the hour for a certain amount of time," I
told him. His smile turned into a deep frown when I said, `blood test.' "I can do a glucose test to see if there might be a concern," I told him, reaching for the unit.
"What if you don't have a doctor?" He asked.
"There are free clinics you can go to," I told him, handing him a flyer about the person who was hosting the fair. He didn't take it. "I tell you what . . . I work there next weekend; come by and I'll see what I can
do," I told him. He took the flyer, looked at it, and gave me a sly grin, but folded the flyer and pushed it into his backpack.
"Ok, Doc," He said, and left. I thought I would probably never see him again. `Too bad,' I thought, as I watched him walk away.
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It was late Saturday afternoon, about two weekends after the health fair.
"Robert, there's a young man in the lobby wanting to see the `cute Doc' from the health fair," Brenda said, holding out the flyer from the fair.
I could feel myself blush, as the lady I was seeing gave me a wink. "Ok, tell him I'll be right there," I told her.
After I finished with what I was doing, I walked out into the lobby, where the young man I had seen earlier was waiting with one of his buddies. "Hey," I said to him. He looked up at me, and gave me that same sly grin.
"I don't understand all this stuff, and when I asked her" He pointed to the receptionist, "to help me, she said, `Do the best I could,'" he told me, handing me a package of papers.
I looked at the papers, since I've never really paid much attention to them. I could see why he was confused. "Be right back," I told him, and went back into the office. After a few minutes, I came back to find him pacing back and forth. "Come with me," I told him. He turned and bent down and chatted with his friend; he was either speaking in Italian or Spanish, I was not sure. I took him into the back and found an empty examination room and placed the file on the tray, and pointed to the exam table. He sat and I grabbed the stool and a pin.
"Ok, here we go, with a number. If you want, you can give us your name or a nickname."
"Numbers are fine," He told me. When I asked about his family, he just shook his head `no,' and shrugged his shoulders. I left the page blank; I figured that once I gained his trust he might open up to me.
I found out he was twenty years old; his dad was American, and his mom was Cuban, and he lived in student housing.
"Are you sexually active?" I asked him, He gave me the sly smile.
"Kind of; oral sex is just for pleasure, and `that type of sex' is too intimate for just anyone," He told me, as a blush crept up his cheeks, while he looked down at his knees.
"So tell me why do you think you have Diabetes?" I asked
"I don't; I just wanted to meet you," He said, with that same sly grin. I almost fell off my stool, and tossed the pin on the tray and looked at him; he was a sly one; I never would have guessed.
As I just looked at him, he got this totally scared look on his face, and went a little pale. "Oh God; I got my wires crossed; I'm so sorry," He said, and bolted for the door.
"No, you didn't," I told him, and grabbed him by the shorts before he could leave the room. "If I am going to be your doctor, I can't date you," I told him.
"I have a doctor; so do you want to go out?" He said.
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