You're In Trouble! Urine Trouble! by Jasper

Previously on Dads Who Mock the World, Jasper was having more health problems. This time, it involved lying prostrate, rather a swollen prostate. In Wrecked ‘Em, Dr. Skeptical Indifference referred Jasper to a urologist...

“You’re in trouble?” says Dr. Olden Long-Fingers.

“Pardon,” I respond, caught slightly off-guard.

“Urine trouble? Are you having urine trouble?” His expression is almost stoic, except for the right corner of his mouth. He’s hiding a smirk, I decide.

This is how our visit began. Dr. Olden Long-Fingers has been practicing medicine for 40 years. You might say he is “old school.” In that, I mean that he has a bed-side manner. Oddly, his bed-side manner isn’t based on kindness and concern, but rather humor. Dr. Ass Kicker is all business. I can’t recall him every asking any personal questions aside from my occupation. Dr. Skeptical Indifference’s casualness to his style made him seem friendly, but then I realized he wasn’t really interested in knowing anything about me.

After a few background questions, Dr. Olden Long-Fingers blurts out another question.

“Do you know my daughter?”

“Say again?”

“Do you know my daughter?”

I can’t think of too many reasons that he would ask this question. Maybe she’s single and needs a good man, so she has asked her father to check out patients (and their equipment) for potential dates/mates. Or, maybe she’s been dumped/screwed-over by some jerk, and she is on an “I hate men” tirade. Daddy has volunteered to stick-it to every young guy that comes in for an exam. I shudder momentarily, and then respond.

“Who’s your daughter?”

“Gabby Long-Fingers. She’s about your age.”

“I don’t think I know her… Why... how would I know your daughter?”

“She’s a financial planner with an office downtown. Gabby is about your age. I thought maybe you two might have met socially. You know, run the same social circles.”

“The name doesn’t sound familiar, and I’m sure I’d remember that name.”

“Oh, I just thought that you might know her. Gabby knows a lot of people and I’m always trying to figure out if she knows any of my patients. It’s that whole six degrees of separation concept. I just love it! Say, are you connected to anyone?”

“Sure. I’m one away from Kevin Bacon.”

“What? Are you serious?”

Suddenly Dr. Olden Long-Fingers seems 40 years younger. His anticipation of my reply is oozing from his pores.

“Oh yeah,” I reply, “I saw Julia Roberts at the Atlanta airport. She was pushing a stroller. I had to do a double-take, but she walked right past me. Kevin Bacon was in the movie Flatliners with her. Therefore, I am one degree away from Kevin Bacon.”

Consternation painted his face.

“I don’t know that seeing someone necessarily meets the six degrees of separation requirements. I would have to dispute that; the fan club might agree with me. I’ll have to refer to the Oracle.”

Now I was puzzled. Is he a Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan too?

“Oracle?”

“Yes, the ORACLE. I always use the ORACLE. Surely you’ve heard of the Oracle of Bacon?”

I shake my head. I was starting to wonder if he was ever going to examine me, not that I was looking forward to it. The last thing I thought I would be doing was having a Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon debate with an ancient urologist.

“Oh! It’s just wonderful! The Oracle of Kevin Bacon is an amazing database that links any actor you input to Kevin Bacon! You should really try it!”

Uh-huh. I decide to humor him further.

“If the Julia Roberts connection doesn’t work, how about this? My cousin chatted with Fred Ward in an elevator in France. You know- Remo Williams? Well, Fred Ward was in Tremors with Kevin Bacon. There. Two degrees from Kevin Bacon.”

“Hmmm… Again, I’ll have to consult the Oracle’s rules.”


Suddenly, his face returns to business. (If only he know I have more connections!) The doctor resumes his questioning of my condition. After allowing me a few minutes to prepare for the exam, he returns. In the middle of checking things, he says, “Oh… you have your underwear monogrammed?”

The creepy-crawly feeling comes over me. He should not notice my underwear, or should at least pretend not to notice. Flashback to the Calvin Klein scene from Back to the Future.

“No. It says Jockey.”

“So it does! I just saw the ‘O-C-K.’ I guess ‘Mockingbard’ would have more letters.”

Dr. Olden Long-Fingers finishes his work and leaves. After I’m dressed, he returns to give me the news.

“Urine luck.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re in luck. There is nothing to lance.”

“Okay…” Another joke, I hope.

“As far as I can tell, there is no problem. When the lab tests come back, I’ll let you know the results. There is some very slight inflammation of the prostate, so I want you to take peanuts.”

“Peanuts are good for the prostate? I thought it was tomatoes.”

“No, no. Peenuts is a supplement. It’s $70 a bottle, but it has been shown to have good results. I’ll see you back in 2 months.”

“Sounds good… What should I do if I do meet your daughter?”

“Run.”

With that, he was out the door. And I always thought it was proctologists with the sense of humor.