Sheriff Roy was a typical man in that he had no use for doctors unless they were absolutely necessary. Still, his job mandated he see one once a year, so Mud Lick’s top law enforcement officer found himself in the exam room of a veterinarian’s office.
You see, friends, back in the days of Mud Lick’s formation, the Town Elders got it in their heads the chief cop in Mud Lick should be someone of sound bodily and mental health. Therefore every year the Sheriff was to undergo a physical examination by a trained medical professional and a competency evaluation by a psychiatrist.
The problem with living in a town like Mud Lick was the lack of people doctors. There was one, once. His name was Ol’ Doc Butler and he was the finest sawbones around for about four counties. Doc Butler gave up people medicine a while back because pet owners actually pay their bills, but he makes time for Sheriff Roy’s evaluation, so Mud Lick’s finest doesn’t have to drive two and a half hours to the Driftwood County Hospital.
Sheriff Roy’s perusal of the latest issue of Popular Mechanics was interrupted by the unique sound of a latex glove slap on a middle finger, Sheriff Roy spun around to see an unfamiliar face. “Sheriff Roy, as I live and breathe! How’s your penis?”
Sheriff Roy looked up at a squat, balding man. “Excuse me?”
“Your penis.” The man said, grinning and rolling his eyes in a manner very similar to that British fellow who played Mr. Bean on the TV. “You know, your todger, tallywhacker, your Johnson, your Twig and Berries, Big Slim and the Twins, Mr. Bell End, the Happy Flogging Bishop. How is your penis?”
Sheriff Roy’s brain attempted to make sense of the little man’s offensive tirade. “Who are you, again?”
“Your doctor, Sheriff! Luther Butler, at your service,” the man said, extending his hand. “Now just drop your trousers and let’s have a look at Little Roy, shall we?”
“I don’t think that’s part of this arrangement.”
“Oh don’t worry, Sheriff, it’s part of the usual examination process. Just drop your pants.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not. Everything down there’s fully functional and operational.”
“Trust the science, Sheriff Roy. C’mon, let’s see your penis!”
This awkward moment was disrupted by Joseph Butler, Sheriff Roy’s ACTUAL examiner, coming into the room. He stared at the short man with a look of disgust and disbelief.
“Luther, you piece of shit, get the hell out of my exam room!”
The squat man in scrubs turned tail and ran.
“Next time I want to see that dick, Sheriff!” he said as he fled.
“I’m sorry Sheriff,” Doc Butler said as he grabbed a stool. “We got word Cousin Luther was getting out of sex addiction rehab and might relapse by attempting to expose himself to people near or in my office. He didn’t try to show you his penis or masturbate in front of you, did he?”
Sheriff Roy stared at Doc Butler with wide eyes of disbelief. “No. He did ask to see my penis repeatedly, though.”
“I think it’s more unfortunate. You’ve got a prevert in your family, Doc Butler.”
“Well Cousin Luther isn’t really family,” Doc Butler said as he retrieved a file from a cabinet. “He’s a former child actor who went by the name ‘Cousin Luther Butler’ on TV. His real name’s actually Hortense Fortenberry.”
This prompted a laugh from Sheriff Roy. “Come to think of it I’d go around calling myself Luther Butler with a name like that.”
“Enough about sex perverts, Roy, let’s get to the meat of the matter.” Doc Butler pulled a pen from a scrub pocket and began to make notes. “Any health issues since our last visit?”
“Any new medications you’ve started or medications ceased since our last visit?”
“I only take Aspirin. You know this.”
“I’ve got to ask these questions, Sheriff.” Doc Butler circled a couple of areas in his file.
“And I’ll give you the same answers every time, Doc.” Sheriff Roy returned.
“Okay, let’s have a look at you.” Doc Butler produced a stethoscope and listened to Sheriff Roy breathe several times. He then attached a finger monitor to check blood oxygen levels. Then he put a blood pressure cuff on Sheriff Roy and measured.
“Looks like your blood pressure’s a little high, Sheriff. You’re still eating clean?”
“As much as ever,” Sheriff Roy answered. “Not really conducive to low blood pressure when one of your deputies takes a hand grenade to children’s story hour at the local library.”
“I heard about that. How’s Nana Wentzel taking Tyrone’s leave?”
“As well as any saint could. Which is to say she’s ready for his immediate return to desk duty.”
“That’s understandable. I told you he wasn’t right in the head when you gave him that job.”
“Well my brother the Fire Chief didn’t want to hire him. Someone has to see that boy get some gainful employment.”
“You could’ve asked Custer down at the Grassy Knoll.”
“I don’t do business dealings with lapsed men of faith running gin joints.”
“Fair enough,” Doc Butler said with an exhale. “Now if you’ll roll up your sleeve, I’m going to do a blood draw for lipid levels and we’ll be done with all of this.”
“You check this every year,” Sheriff Roy said as he rolled up the sleeve of his uniform shirt. “Why is sticking me so pleasurable to you?”
“I may be doing this as a favor to my old man, Sheriff, but I’ve got to make sure I dot every I and cross every T for your exam. That includes regular bloodwork.”
“People who overreach in government always say they’re just doing their jobs. That’s what they said during COVID and it’s still true.” The Sheriff made a point to avert his gaze during the blood draw as he was not at all fond of needles.
“Okay, we’re done here, Sheriff,” Doc Butler said as he applied a bandage to the site where blood was collected. “Barring any negative indicators in your blood work I’m going to go ahead and say you’re clearly healthy physically for a 44-year-old man. Per the directives of the Town Charter, I will submit an affidavit with results from your physical stating as much.”
“Your service to the community is greatly appreciated.” Sheriff Roy stood up and shook the younger doctor’s hand. “I’ll be seeing myself out then.”
Doc Butler couldn’t maintain his composure any longer. He began snickering as he shook the Sheriff’s hand and said, “We’ll see you for the fun next year, Sheriff!”
Sheriff Roy stopped at the door. “What’s so funny about that?”
Butler grinned. “Next year there’s a colonoscopy in your future. If you thought getting stuck for blood was bad today…” Doc Butler couldn’t finish his sentence as he burst into laughter.
This led the good Sheriff to consider getting his next physical at the Driftwood County Hospital.
After all, if someone was going to probe his ass it might as well happen in some place other than the back room of a veterinary clinic.
Stuff like that, Sheriff Roy thought that night with a beer in hand watching the evening news, always made TMZ. And Sheriff Roy on TMZ would end well for no one.
The thing about a colonoscopy isn’t the camera, it’s the crew. But thanks to the marvels of modern medicine, you’re asleep for them now. That wasn’t always the case.
I was made aware in the UK one is expected to be awake and engage with the video feed.
That’s positively nightmarish.
Oh My Sweet and Fluffy Lord!!! Nightmarish doesn’t begin to describe it. Why do I think they play banjo music during the procedure?
In Spain this is certainly the case.
My shit is not pretty.
My sympathies to the Sheriff. Those stainless steel exam tables are damn cold.
They are only just starting to push the colonoscopies on young folks now. Used to be the first one didn’t happen until 50. Adding all the younger people to the patient base has the gastroenterologists pretty busy.