In the quiet, wood-paneled waiting room of a prestigious medical clinic, an eighty-year-old woman sat with a posture that suggested a lifetime of unwavering dignity. Despite her outward composure, she was grappling with a persistent and baffling physical annoyance\u2014an unrelenting itch that had made her daily life increasingly uncomfortable. She was a woman of traditional values, someone who had navigated eight decades with her virtue entirely intact, a fact she carried with a quiet sense of pride.<\/p>\n
When she was finally called into the first examination room, she described her symptoms to a young, harried physician. He spent less than two minutes listening before offering a dismissive shrug. \u201cMa\u2019am,\u201d he said, scribbling on a prescription pad, \u201cit sounds to me like you\u2019ve contracted a case of \u2018the crabs.\u2019 It\u2019s a common parasitic issue.\u201d<\/p>\n
The woman stiffened, her eyes flashing with indignation. \u201cDoctor,\u201d she replied, her voice ringing with absolute certainty, \u201cthat is medically and morally impossible. I am an eighty-year-old virgin. I have lived my entire life without a single indiscretion. I suggest you reconsider your diagnosis.\u201d The doctor, unwilling to argue, simply gestured toward the door, leaving her to find a second opinion.<\/p>\n
Refusing to be labeled with such a scandalous condition, she sought out a specialist across town. This second doctor was older, wearing a pair of thick spectacles that slid down his nose as he reviewed her chart. After hearing her complaints, he sighed. \u201cNow, I know you might find this distressing, but based on the symptoms, it really does point toward a standard infestation. It\u2019s likely the crabs.\u201d<\/p>\n
Again, the woman rose from her chair, smoothing her floral skirt. \u201cI will tell you what I told the last man: I have been a virgin for eighty years. I have never so much as shared a romantic evening, let alone put myself in a position to catch such a thing. Your diagnosis is a failure of logic.\u201d<\/p>\n
Frustrated but determined to find relief, she finally secured an appointment with a third physician\u2014a man known for his meticulous attention to detail and his refusal to jump to conclusions. She walked into his office and preempted the conversation immediately. \u201cDoctor, I have an itch that is driving me to distraction. But before you say a word, I am an eighty-year-old virgin. Two of your colleagues have tried to tell me I have the crabs, and I will not hear it again. It simply cannot be.\u201d<\/p>\n
The doctor nodded thoughtfully, motioning toward the examination table. \u201cWell, ma\u2019am, if two men have failed to find the truth, it\u2019s time for a proper look. Let\u2019s see what\u2019s actually going on.\u201d<\/p>\n
He performed a thorough and respectful examination, silence hanging in the room as he worked. Finally, he straightened up, adjusted his lab coat, and looked at her with a peculiar expression\u2014half-surprised and half-amused.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, Ma\u2019am,\u201d he began, \u201cyou\u2019ll be very happy to know that you were absolutely correct. It isn\u2019t the crabs at all. Your virtue remains perfectly intact.\u201d<\/p>\n
She let out a long sigh of relief, her shoulders finally dropping. \u201cI knew it. I told them so. But if it\u2019s not that, Doctor, then what is causing this terrible itching?\u201d<\/p>\n
The doctor leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. \u201cTo put it in medical terms, your \u2018cherry\u2019 is so old that you\u2019ve actually developed a case of fruit flies.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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