I just visited the most hilarious doctor in the world. He is ready made to be a star in a sitcom. Actually, if you saw him in a sitcom, you might think it was too over the top.

He is an older man. I'm guessing late 60s, at least. Quite short. Probably about 5' 5". He talks without pausing. Quite the stream of consciousness. I told him I had asthma, to which he responded, "Oh, jeez, everyone's got asthma. Where'd you grow up? New Jersey. Everyone's got asthma. My daughter, my granddaughter. (He looks through my papers and picks up the phone to talk to his secretary.) Could you please tell everyone I need to have patient names on the back of all papers? I need this to happen. Tell Eva. (Back to me.) So asthma. Everyone. OK. What else? How's your stomach? A good stomach? Some people can't eat certain things. Do you exercise? Jewish people can't eat dairy. What do you take for the asthma? I've written a lot of papers on asthma. I'll show you this one I wrote about 4, 5 years ago. Maybe 7 or 8."

Once he found that paper (a miracle considering his office was a mess), I noticed on it that it was written in 1981. Twenty-two years ago.

His office really is a mess. There is shit everywhere. Piled up to the ceiling.

At one point he was looking at my back and my pale complexion sparked this conversation:

Doc: Are you Irish?

Me: Yes.

Doc: Do you go out in the sun a lot?

Me: Occasionally.

Doc: You see what's going on here with your back?

Me: Um, no. What do you mean?

Doc: Do you have a friend?

Me: What?

Doc: A friend, a roommate?

Me: Yeah....

Doc: You should have them look at your back.

Me: I'd rather you looked at it and told me what is wrong.

Doc: Just check for spots.

Me: OK.

Doc (looks at my chart): Toole, huh? That's Irish, I guess. I know an O'Toole. I saw him yesterday. I felt bad because I couldn't remember his first name. Big fella. Plays badminton?

Me (long pause): I don't think I know him.

Doc: Badminton.


We then talked again about asthma for a while. Well, he talked about it. I nodded and tried not to laugh. I wasn't laughing at him in a mean way. He is just so entertaining.

The best part was as I was leaving he called his assistant Eva, but accidentally called her Asthma. He then diagnosed me with a bad case of pencil, and prescribed me 500 milligrams of "my diploma from NYU." Of course that last part is a lie, but the Asthma/Eva thing is true.

I can't wait to go back. I'm bringing a tape recorder.