This First Week in Adulthood

Just a disclaimer, you may want to read this at home…may not be appropriate for certain workplaces.  You have been warned!

Gray Hair = Playoffs?!? Playoffs?!?

Today, I plucked out my first gray hair and I donít even have a chest hair yet?  WTF happened to my healthy young adult hood?  I am still going through puberty related problems and now I got to deal with the getting old problems at the same time?  I tell you, I have done a lot of growing up this week and todayís stray gray only capped off what can only be described as the end of the beginning for Ticalís ride through man-hood.


Engine Trouble?

Last Friday I had my yearly physical, which I always look forward to because if things have been dull, at least I know I will get to second base with my lady doctor and all I have to do is fake a cough.  Talk about role reversal, me faking it, I love it!  So after my twisted love excursion ends with subtle bellow from the windpipes, my lady doc begins to ask me some standard questions, one of which is about blood work.  Just like remembering a League Night Out the next day, Iíve never had blood work done and she informs me I am old enough where I should have some done.

After explaining to me where to go and the process of getting blood work done, she tries to casually throw a curve ball my way and asks me if I have ever been sexually active as she jots down some random dots on a form.  Sitting comfortably upright, like a king on his throne, I rather cockily (no pun intended) grin and nod.  Instantaneously, she asks me if while Iím getting blood work done at the clinic if I would be interested in getting an STD test.  Immediately, my once proud grin turns to one of sheer apprehension.  I shakily stand up.  My voice sheepishly elevates as I nervously ask her, and I quote, ìWhy, did you see something on the engine when you popped the hood?î  Not the classiest way to ask, but I was on the spot.

For a brief moment, my doctor and I both share an uncomfortable silence before a pity smile slowly stretches from her wide mouth.  She assures me she didnít see anything and that the test will be just as quick as the blood work, but I am not at ease.  When I get home and tell mamaí Tical about my upcoming venture on Monday, I can tell she is confused.  Mama Tical is very old school and thinks her baby boy in infallible. Mama Tical asks me, ìWhy would a young guy like you need an STD test?  Arenít they for older people?î  In her eyes Iím still in diapers and in a lot of ways I still am, but the only thing that comes to my mind to tell her is, ìIts probably just a way for the clinic to make money.î  I can barely spit that out with a straight face so before I busted out with laughter, I bolted up to my room to call my friend Kasey, who I will just say is an expert in the above field, because I got a ton of questions before my date with destiny.


Mr. OíCallaghan goes to WashingtonÖWell Washington St. Clinic in Medford Sq

Flash forward after a long Saturday and Sunday of abstinence, which is the equivalent for studying for an STD test, and the day has come for me to go down to the clinic, primarily for my blood work of course.  I pop in and hand over the form my lady doc gave to me to the nice old clinician behind the all white desk.  The clinician looks over the sheet and kids, ìWoah youíre here for the works.î  I sign in and await my treatments and with all the stuff Iím getting done, I feel like Iíve sprung for the deluxe at the car wash, getting the under coating wash even thought I have no idea what that is.


Enter the Schwabb

The slap of latex gloves being applied is like nails on a chalkboard for me.  A nurse leads me into a side room and I get the blood work done.  She takes vile after vile and before I can start to sweat, the nurse is done.  Then came one of those moments in your life you will pay any amount of money to a team of therapists to forget, like the first time you got pantsed in front of a girl or missing a free throw to win a game or walking in on your parents doiní it on your laundry (I never wore my MixTape Jersey ever again).

As a man, if you never have met the ìSchwabbî I pray you never do because this Schwabb was not nearly as entertaining or knew as much about sports as the real Schwabb on ESPN, however, this Schwabb is much more informative.  After an excruciating few seconds that felt like a child trying to fit a square into a circle peg for an hour, my horror was over and I could zip up.


Waiting is the Hardest Part

After being violated, my nurse tells me she can either send me the results from both tests in the mail or wait around for about an hour in the waiting room.  Yeah, I want this hanging over my head for a few days.  I donít want to spend an extra minute in school let alone a day, so if Iím goin the way of Rockefeller, Easy E and Old Yeller (why do u think Timmy really put him out of his misery), I want to know ASAP.  And this is when you know you canít make this up because while Iím in the waiting room pretending to read a Newsweek, the office has a TV playing nothing but infomercials for prescription drugs.  As soon as I sit down I find myself smack dab in the middle of a commercial for freakin Valtrex!  For those of you who havenít seen these commercials I am not explaining the medicine but hereís a website for those without a


A ìClassyî Way to Breath Easy

After about 45 minutes of sheer sweat and trepidation, my nurse calls me back into a room.  Best news Iíve heard since two for one coronas on spring break in Cancun, ìMr. OíCallaghan, all of you blood work is healthy and all of your STD tests have come back negative.î  Yet again, I find a classy way to express my emotions as I rhetorically ask, ìSo my stuffs so clean you can eat off of it huh?î  Years of watching commercials for cleaning products that made stuff, ìso clean you can eat off of itî had made me blurt out probably one of the most inappropriate statements of my life, but I didnít care.  Granted my nurseís face looked like a first year med studentís when she saw her first mangled victim of a car crash due to my mental image, but again, I didnít care.

Before leaving, I couldnít help myself.  Call it pure euphoria, ecstasy or just down right num-skullery, still high from the jackpot of news, I gave my nurse a big hug, which the wrinkly nurse did not seem to enjoy and asked her, ìSo, you got any daughters or nieces my ageÖ?î

My nurse took a step back and scowled, ìGoodbye, Mr. OíCallaghan.î  She turned and walked back into the room and out of my life foreverÖwell at least until the next time I make a boo boo, which could conceivably be forever.  I turned and strutted out the Clinicís door.  When I got to my car and I started to slightly spin with my arms stretched out and melodically hummed, ìIím gonna make it after allllllllllllll.î

The little towel boy is growing up way too quick, but at least I got my health and thatís something I will continue to be grateful for.