Last year, I had surgery on my toes. (Ingrown nails. Blech.) As the doctor was injecting anesthetic, he said, “This isn’t going to hurt — well, me, at least.”

In a moment of stress and pain, he made me laugh, and that’s one of the best things a doctor can do when treating a patient.

He then gave me a riddle to work through during the procedure. (Which, of course, I didn't solve correctly, but instead found a loophole that technically solved it.)

I could just quote my father, who is a doctor, but I believe that’d be cheating. But just for kicks: While I was getting my double vision diagnosed, my father was sitting in the corner of the room and watched the optometrist struggle with finding the right degree of prism to put in my glasses. (She wasn’t used to something so uncommon, it’s understandable. It was mostly a place where you buy glasses.)

So, 20 minutes into this poor woman’s ride on the struggle bus, my dad pointed at me and said, with absolute sincerity: “Your eyes are fucked up.” He then proceeded to laugh hysterically, and he got a few chuckles from the doctor as well.