I hear the sounds of patients being pushed up and down the halls in squeaky-wheeled gurneys, and I suddenly have doubts about being here—uncertainties regarding the trust I have in my decision making abilities. I know the consulting nurse told you to come in, I think to myself. But maybe you should've waited to see your regular doctor in the morning. Maybe you should've made that decision instead. What if you end up looking foolish because you weren't strong enough to handle a small obstacle in life? Reaching down to scratch a massive episode of burning irritation with impeccable timing, my thoughts do a 180 and I conclude, "Nope. This examination room belongs to me, damn it. It's mine. All mine!"

My thoughts and cootch clawing are disrupted by a knock at the door. Without cerebration or hesitation I shout, "Come in!"

The door slowly creeps open, and HE enters. Not an unthreatening to the ego, SHE. A mother f*cking, gorgeous self-esteem shattering—medical professional that heals sickness with handsomeness—HE. Nurse McSexy enters my hives'mare.

The instant Nurse McSexy steps into the examination room, I fall into a realm of existence I've never experienced before. There are NO words to describe those first milliseconds when my eyes fall upon his lean and muscular frame. No words. Like a stereotypical asshole, I foolishly assumed Nurse Plain Jane would be entering my room. Instead, the dickhead formerly known as karma sends the Marvel'ous Incredible Hunk to my bedside. Just two steps into the examination room and Nurse McSexy Hunk Smashes me, causing my brain to fall out of my ear and onto the floor. Holy. Shit. Never in my life have I been Hunk Smashed this hard before.

No. Words. However, if a picture supposedly speaks a thousand words, maybe I can capture the mortification in those first milliseconds via an image? It's definitely worth a try. In that moment when McSexy entered the room and his hunkiness intermixed with my multi-leveled vulnerabilities, it sort of felt something like this:

Since my brain is gone due to getting Hunk Smashed, I'm incapable of processing information. Images. Sounds. Language. Suddenly they're foreign concepts. It's not even clear to me in this moment why McSexy is registering as severely hunkalicious. Dark hair. Full lips. Eyes the color of a sapphire sky separating Heaven from Earth. No, wait. Maybe his eyes are as green as a budding springtime morning? Or deliciously brown like a decadent chocolate fudge brownie? Or maybe they're that super cool hazel color with a gold, green and gray hombre? I don't know. I can't tell. Honestly, I'm not even sure how it's possible for me to have a pulse or functioning lungs without a brain right now.

What I can process this—my nurse shuts the door sexy.

My nurse holds his clipboard sexy.

When my nurse sits down at an angle on his hip and drapes one arm over the back of the chair—it's sexy.

When he props a leg up on the side of the table-bed—it's sexy.

My nurse smells clean and disinfected. Sexy.

My nurse looks up at me and smiles. Sexy.

"So what brings you to Urgent Care?" he asks in a—sex-filled voice.

My response is:

I'm brainless—paralyzed on every level. I can't move. I can't answer his question. I can't blink. I can't form a thought in my head. The only thing I do is stare—probably with my mouth wide open. It's humiliating.

McSexy's eyebrows arch and his smile widens just slightly. He seems unfazed—as though he gets this stupefied response from patients often. I'm not saying he's full of himself, but he's definitely being extremely patient and professional as he waits for me to answer his question. Clearly my mortification level continues to rise as each moment of silence passes. I don't speak. I don't move. I don't blink. I just stare like a damn fool.

Nurse McSexy adjusts in his chair and places his arms on the clipboard now resting in his lap. "Can you tell me what symptoms you're having?"

Answer him you idiot, I scream in my head. OH MY GOD, ANSWER HIM!

The negative self-talk is back. This is progress in the area of brain functioning, but I still can't speak. I'm pushing with all my strength to get words over my tongue and out my mouth, but nothing is happening. Why is nothing happening?

I've morphed into that horrible actress in romantic comedies who overacts in the most nauseating way possible when meeting the handsome leading man. You know? That woman in a movie who can't respond to a gentleman's greeting with a polite smile or a few bashful whispers. Such B-rate acting. But now I'm starting to wonder if maybe I've been judging these RomComs unfairly. Can a pretty face actually cause brain failure?

McSexy's brows furrow—eyes filled with genuine concern. He's asked me a question twice now, and I've failed to answer him. Holy shit, I holler again in my head. Say something! Anything! He probably thinks your tongue is swelling or you're having a stroke. ANSWER HIM DAMN IT!

I close my eyes, take a deep breath and exhale a sentence. Unfortunately, only random sounds spill out of my mouth. Random sounds—not words. I've somehow managed to morph from impersonating a rock to pretending I'm the poster child for blubbering idiots. I'm not sure which is better. At this point, I'm pretty much just hoping my allergic reaction takes a sudden turn for the worse and kills me off.

Nurse McSexy cocks his adorable head to the side and looks at me with eyes of compassion. "Would it be easier if I asked questions for you to answer?"

I nod my head furiously in agreement of this idea. Then taking a deep breath, I attempt to exhale another sentence—this time praying I have the cognitive abilities of a toddler. Please God, just let me string at least 3 words together in a logical order, I beg. But yet again—my brain fails me. Instead of spewing plain old random sounds like last time, my new random sounds are being tossed around on the sound waves of a school girl giggle.

F*ck! I scream inside my head—embarrassed tears on the verge of falling. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm not even able to joke my way out of this humiliation!

Nurse McSexy looks down at the clipboard. "It says here you're suffering from a rash or hives?"

I nod. "Yes."

I said a three letter word, I chant proudly in my mind. A three letter word! I nearly push my hands repetitively towards the ceiling to raise the roof due to my excitement for recalling the basics of phonics. Luckily I'm able to restrain myself. I don't think I have the mental strength to take ownership of any more crazy-lady quirks.

"And it's itchy? Burning?" McSexy continues.

"Itchy. Unbearably itchy. To the point where it feels like it's burning."

Hell yes! I celebrate again internally. I just put a whole bunch of words together and it made sense!

"And when did you first notice the hives?" he questions.

"This morning. In fact, the itching is what woke me up. It felt like I had slept in the world's largest spider's nest."

Nurse McSexy's mouth curls up on one side into a partial grin. Apparently my descriptions are not what patients commonly use to explain the symptoms of hives. "And where are the hives located?"

In this exact moment I realize I've never been more in love with a piece of clothing in my entire life—like Dobby and his sock. The hospital gown I once mocked moments ago is now my savior—my protective shield. I suddenly adore this flimsy piece of well-worn fabric. In fact, I'm actually disappointed in myself for being so critical of it. I. Heart. Hospital gowns. Forever.

"There's hives on my armpits." I point towards my underarms. Then using both hands, I make a cupping motion under the boobs without actually touching my boobs. "Some hives are sort of in this area." Grabbing myself behind the knees I add, "There's also lots of itching behind the knees and on the butt. And—." I exhale. I point to my crotch area with a finger swirling around as though it's going down a drain. "And there, too."

McSexy smiles and nods. "Can you show me the hives?"

Life. Officially. Over. 

*****McSEXY BREAK*****

This was definitely one of the most embarrassing moments of my Urgent Care visit. Hard to appear classy and mentally stable when my brain stops functioning!

MUSIC: Brett Eldredge. Sent me to another planet inside my brain? Made my screws come loose? Got me confused? Yep. This is what McSexy did to me.

Your vote is McAppreciated! Muah!

MarilynHepburn.com