Dr. Schmocter

Going to the Doctor in Chiang Mai is always a jolt to the senses. Experience one, if you recall, I was asked by my office to get a general check up at the hospital. "Hospital" is a term to be loosely used when describing the scene of bleeding people on guernies lying in the lobby. Experience two involved a trip to another hospital when I was feeling ill. All of my test results were broadcasted, through what may as well have been a megaphone, to all the eager eared listeners in the waiting room.

Today I tried a clinic on for size. I have a lump in my cheek. Which to a hypochondriac like myself means 1 of about 3 things. Cancer. A rapidly growing benign tumor which will swallow my entire cheek within a matter of seconds. Or the beginnings of some little known skin disease which will consequently be named after me and medical students from around the world will come to analyze me in my home prodding at my cheek with interest and disgust. After nights of WedMD-ing until the wee hours and reading online chatroom convos between people like "cheek doc" and "nastygirl7" I decided a medical professional might be my best bet.

The clinic was clean. There were mod couches and no dismembered bodies in the waiting room. The clocks were functioning and there were no used needles laying on top of the required paperwork. In fact when I entered the receptionist said, "may I help you?" She said that! In English! "May I help you?" The sweetest words I've ever heard.

A nice Indian/Thai man looked at my cheek. Hardened nerve endings were the diagnoses and a cream was given to me. It may be a placebo but sugar tablets and lotion in medical containers work miracles on the hypochondriatic mind.

So thank you Chiang Mai for having this doctor to soothe a worried girls woes. Thank you for not forcing me back into the cavernous pits of the city hospital. And even though my friendly doctor revealed my diagnoses to a room full of wide-eyed listeners I was happy that he did so in clear, unbroken English.