The Monkey Exhibit

Just give it up and give me your weight, ladies! I wouldn’t ask for it if the hospital didn’t want to know. They guys have no problem doing it…

Certain tests at certain facilities make me ask the patients for their weight when scheduling an appointment. Right now, reading this is making the hairs rise on the back of a woman’s neck. The men probably have warning sirens going off in their heads: “Whoooop…whooooop…whooooop”. The men who are hearing these warning sirens are wise.

First of all, the woman is most likely to pretend they didn’t hear you correctly, or even pretend they didn’t hear you at all. Next the woman is going to tell you “I’m not sure,” or “I don’t remember,” when any man knows for a fact that every single woman alive knows there exact weight at any given time of the day, even women in undeveloped countries that have never heard of a scale in their whole life. They would tell you (if you could drag it out of them…), “I weigh 50 dried cow chips.”

If you press them hard enough (say “the hospital needs to know,” or “they can’t schedule your cardiology test without your weight or they won’t know how much medicine to prepare for you”), you can probably get a woman to say, “I think around ___…” however, I have had one woman leave on me telling me I’d have to look in her chart (which around here usually remains out back with her provider for a few days…) and call her with the appointment. Then she left. Without her appointment. Just because she wouldn’t spit out her weight. How sad.

This sounds familiar; have I written about this before? Obviously it’s still true…