The Devil You Know

Dr. Kirschstein booms. “YOU SHOULDN’T NEED MUCH SINCE YOUR PENIS IS SO SMALL.

There was a time when I would have said yes

I figured if you came up there alone, you wanted to be alone.” Ryan looks at me now with an unreadable expression on his face. I can’t help but think of all those moments during residency when we’d be together, staring into each other’s eyes, and I was absolutely certain what he felt for me went beyond just a casual fling. That he really loved me. God knows, I loved him. “Did you ever consider getting tested?” I ask suddenly. He lowers his blue eyes. “Jane…” “I know you had this whole philosophy about how you couldn’t deal with a positive result,” I say. “That it would ruin your life to know…” “Exactly,” he interrupts me. “I explained it to you a million times. If I found out it was positive, that I was going to end up like my dad, I don’t think I could have dealt with it. My brother completely fell apart.” “So basically, you lived your life like you were going to get sick,” I point out. He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t. I’ve had a good life.” “But didn’t you ever consider taking the risk?” The volume of my voice has risen several notches. “Didn’t you ever think about maybe getting yourself tested so that you and I could… so that…” A lump rises in my throat. When I was dating Ryan, I always wished he’d change his mind. I wanted it more than anything. In my heart, I knew he’d be negative. I could tell he was healthy. He clearly didn’t have some crazy neurodegenerative disease—I’d know if he did. But he never even considered getting

Glitter is just like herpes. It’s not dangerous or deadly, but it’s super annoying. You think it’s just in one place, but then it spreads to other places. Most of the time, you’re not even sure where it came from. But once you’ve got it, it’s nearly impossible to get rid of. And you can give it to anyone you have contact with. Even if you just touch them. So really, it’s worse than herpes.

There is nothing more painful than stepping on a Lego with your bare foot.

The Sack refers to the giant bag that some large percentage of elderly people toss their pill bottles into. Then, as far as I can tell, they just reach in to take whatever medication they randomly pull out. I hate The Sack.

Men. They have no curiosity.

Examining her own breasts is something that women might tell their doctors they do, but rarely actually do. Like flossing.

...would he drive back out and get me? No way. I'd have to wait around for a taxi. Or get murdered in an Uber.

Ryan in scrubs is handsome -- Ryan dressed up is almost painfully handsome. I feel like I should shield my eyes.

At some point, I started to wonder if none of this was real and I was dreaming the whole thing. That’s something that has happened to me before in dreams—I’ve been trying and trying to dial a number and just can’t dial it correctly.

Of all the fields I imagined Alyssa doing, hospice would have been my last choice. It seems like by definition, hospice medicine calls for a physician who is remarkably kind and caring—everything Alyssa was not. Unless it was one of those things where after dealing with Alyssa, you’re just kind of glad to die. That was probably it.

Except as we were kissing, it was all too obvious to me that Ryan Reilly is not my soulmate. He’s a guy that I enjoyed hooking up with years ago but he’s not the love of my life. The love of my life is at home right now, with the child we made together. And even though he walked out on me last night, I’ve got to try to make it work with him. Whatever it takes, I’m going to do it. Ben is the one I’m meant to be with.

He nods and releases my hands, which I shove into my pockets. I don’t say to him what I can’t stop thinking, which is that if he hadn’t been such a wuss and just got tested for that dominant gene, Leah could have been his daughter.

five-year mortality rate after an amputation due to diabetes is about fifty percent.

When you get old, it’s way better to have daughters than sons. Daughters usually take care of their elderly parents. Sons, less so.

Except the reality is that smoking will inevitably mess you up, no matter what. Nobody escapes it. It ages you well beyond your years—it makes your teeth yellow and your skin wrinkled. It causes strokes and heart attacks, and it could land you with an oxygen tank you’ll have to lug around everywhere you go. And hey guys—it can cause impotence. Also, it causes lung cancer. That too.

And that’s when I lost it. Let me tell you, if you are a man, never ever tell your wife to “just chill out.

Generally, the next step in the testicular exam is transillumination. To do this, you turn off all the lights in the examining room and hold a bright light to the posterior of the testicle with one hand. If you’re a female, you should probably be holding a rape whistle at this point.