Where were you when the new governor of Ohio was sworn in? I can tell you where I was. I was lying face-down on a table covered in a white tissue tablecloth with a full bladder waiting to have a mole removed from my back.

You know how it is at the doctor. They always call you back right away and you hope against hope that maybe, just maybe THIS will be the time you don’t wait half-naked for an hour for someone to tend to whatever needs you may have.

My appointment was for 11:40. I arrived at 11:37 (I know this because they made me write it down by my name when I walked in). I went right on back to the room around 11:42. Two nurses then instructed me to take off my sweater and hike up my shirt. Then lay face-down on the table. Then answer in rapid-fire succession questions regarding medications I take, any pacemakers I have, any allergies, any questions, any last rights?

And I say, “No, no, no, no, but I do want you to know I am a huge wus.”

With that, one nurse hands me a mango-flavored lollipop.

They then mark the mole with an X and make a note for the doctor to double-check that it is, indeed, the correct mole to remove. (Thank God I wasn’t getting a leg removed, but at least they checked.)

The one who gave me the lollipop said she was going to turn the radio on for me so that I could have some relaxing music. Only instead it was some public news radio channel. “Okay how about the news?” She says. Then they both leave.

So I’m lying there on my stomach, it’s about noon, and I’m reading some crummy, wrinkled, year-old copy of Earth Biscuit or something. Then governor Kasich’s inauguration comes on.

The governor had apparently requested that the song “How Great Thou Art” be sung in honor of this special day. It sounded like maybe he asked his 90-year-old aunt to sing it.

There’s a knock! Hurray! The doctor comes in and looks at my back and says, “Yep, that’s the right one.” And leaves.

I chuck Earth Biscuit onto a chair. The song is over and the radio commentator is giving me a blow-by-blow of the inauguration. “Now he’s standing up…he’s coming to the podium…he’s scratching his left testicle…”

12:10, another knock! It’s the lollipop nurse there to give me my shot. I asked if I got the numbing cream before the numbing shot, but she said that was something I had to buy at the store beforehand (like this is common knowledge) and it takes half an hour to work. (Therefore, I deduced, I was NOT getting it.)

She asks if I have my sucker. I do but I didn’t think I was actually supposed to eat it.

“You’ll feel a pinch and some burning,” she tells me.

Pinch! Burn, burn, burn, burn, burn…burn, buuuuurn…buuuuuuuuurn (“Oh, you still feel that?”) more burn…and…done.

*$#@!

She leaves. I eat my sucker. When that’s done (one minute later because I chew them up)  I bravely get up to throw the wrapper away and grab my phone for some amusement. I hike myself back up onto the high table and lay back down quickly in case the door opens at that very moment. No such luck…and there is no internet connection in the room. Dammit!

The governor is giving his speech. I’m captivated. Or is it held captive?

I might also mention that, to my delight, every time someone in the room next door moved to a certain spot, the radio fluctuated between speech and static.

Finally, the big moment arrives when he’s sworn in! I celebrate by unsticking my face from the tissue and moving it from the left to the right.

12:25, knock, knock! Could it be? It is!! The doctor is here to remove my mole. It takes her about three minutes, then they quickly usher me out the door because obviously they wanted to listen to the rest of the inauguration in private.

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