A Little Exercise Wouldn’t Hurt . . .

Before I continue with “The Mighty Oak,” my wife reminded me that I needed to give credit to the doctor that started me on this journey in the first place. Providing this background information will enable me to wrap up all the loose ends before proceeding in relaying what happened at that juncture, when I realized, after working out for over year, I was no closer to achieving my transformation goals. 

I was working a rotating schedule, which consisted of three, twelve hours shifts, in succession, followed by three days off. At first this arrangement seemed favorable except for the innumerable amount of walking required to complete the job. 

One day while driving home from work, I had a dull pain on my lower left side. It seemed to only occur when I was driving, and strangely enough, whenever I finished working. On the last day of my rotating schedule, I confided in my wife, who is a nurse.  

She chastised me for not telling her sooner, fearing that it may have been something with my kidneys, and scheduled an appointment with a general practitioner, she found in the area, named Dr. Eidus. I was not in the habit of running to the doctor for any small ailment, but since the pain persisted, finally agreed to go and see the doctor. 

My wife accompanied me of course, and insisted that the doctor check my kidneys, to rule out that a stone could be the source of my pain. Dr. Eidus, tapped on the lower region of my back a few times, and unequivocally stated that the discomfort I felt was not due to anything with my kidneys. 

Of course, my wife was not satisfied with his assessment, especially when I complained a few weeks later of the same pain. Back, we went to Dr. Eidus’s office, only to be told the same diagnosis again. Whatever was causing the pain on my lower left side, it had nothing to do with my kidneys. 

I refrained from saying anything else to my wife, until one day, the pain had increased in duration, and intensity. I called Dr. Eidus’s office, and he agreed to squeeze me in after work. Two things worked in my favor that day. Traffic was almost nonexistent on my twenty minutes’ drive, and an empty waiting room when I arrived. 

Dr. Eidus was not in a particular welcoming mood. He asked me to disrobe to nothing but my underpants.  

“Does, this hurt?” He asked, tapping me on my kidneys. 

“No, sir.” 

“When do you feel the pain?” 

“Only after I finish working.” 

“At no other time?” He asked, with a puzzled expression. 

“No, I’m inclined to share my wife’s belief, that it has something to do with my kidneys,” 

“I don’t agree,” he snapped. 

“Then doctor, what do you think it is? 

“I don’t know,” he said, “but a little exercise wouldn’t hurt!” 

As if choreographed, we both looked at my distended midsection. He did not utter another word. He promptly left the room. There I stood alone in my boxer briefs. As I looked at my out of shape figure in the mirror, I realized that Dr. Eidus has stopped just short of calling me obese . . . 



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