“No,” she replied immediately. “That’s not possible. I’ve said it before, I’m eighty years old, and I’ve never had such a relationship. It’s impossible for me to have such a thing.”
The doctor shrugged without offering any deeper explanation, no alternative theory. Just the same answer, presented as if it were obvious.
She left the office more frustrated than before.
Two doctors, same conclusion, and neither of them seemed interested in listening beyond the surface.
By the time she scheduled her third appointment, she had decided on one thing.
She didn’t leave without a proper answer.
When she entered the third doctor’s office, she didn’t waste any time.
“Doctor,” she said, “I need your help. I have an itch that won’t go away, and before you say anything, let me be clear. I’ve already been to two other doctors, and they both said it was crabs. It can’t be crabs. I’m eighty years old, and I’ve never been with anyone. So whatever is happening, it’s not that.”
The doctor looked at her carefully.
Unlike the others, he didn’t rush to answer. He didn’t interrupt. He just nodded and gestured toward the examination table.
“Let’s take a look,” he said.
There was something different in his tone. Not dismissive. Not overly confident. Just focused.
She climbed onto the table, determined to finally get a proper answer.
The examination was thorough, more careful than the previous ones. The doctor took his time, observing, checking, and making sure he understood exactly what he was seeing before drawing conclusions.
For a moment the room was silent.
Then he pulled back, took off his gloves, and a faint smile formed at the corner of his mouth.
“Well,” he said, “one thing I can tell you for sure.”
She sat up a little and waited.
“You’re absolutely right,” he continued. “Those aren’t crabs.”
Relief immediately spread across her face.
“I knew,” she said. “I told them.”
The doctor nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “And in your case, the explanation is actually much simpler.”
She leaned forward, expecting something serious, something complicated, something that would finally make sense of everything she had been doing.
Instead, the doctor gave his answer in a calm, almost relaxed tone.
“At your age,” he said, “things change. And sometimes, when something has been untouched for a very long time…”
He paused just long enough to let the moment calm down.
“…it attracts something completely different.”
She frowned, confused.
“What do you mean?”
The doctor smiled a little.
“Let’s just say,” he replied, “this is not a case of crabs.”
He glanced back at his notes, and then added, almost as an afterthought,
“These are more like… fruit flies.”
For a second, the room became completely silent.
So the meaning landed.
The frustration, the confusion, the stubborn certainty – it all collapsed into one unexpected conclusion.
She stared at him, speechless.
After all, after three appointments, after insisting over and over that the first diagnosis couldn’t possibly be correct, she had finally gotten her answer.
It wasn’t what she expected.
It wasn’t even close.
But it definitely was.
And as she climbed down from the table and straightened her clothes with the same quiet dignity she had carried into the room, there was only one thing left to acknowledge.
Sometimes the truth is just not surprising.
It’s stranger than anything you were prepared to hear.
