I SAT on the examining table in my urologist’s office and tried to cover myself with the ridiculous blue paper gown that has become the standard patient uniform in our throwaway society. Surely this wasn’t designed with an adult in mind.
“Put it on with the opening in the front,” the nurse mumbled, probably for the 20th time that day, as she raced out of the room.
Or did she say to put the opening in the back? Either way, it was never going to cover my thighs. I hugged the two halves of the gown together as I waited for the doctor.
The urologist, who most likely saw a similar scene in every examining room, ignored my open-in-the-front gown and began to ask about my symptoms. When did I first notice the problem? Do I need to get up more than two times a night?
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