Asymmetry

Every mission is fraught with weird medical challenges. Some missionaries avoid the inherent threats with impunity, while a few have difficulty flushing tropical tapeworms out of their systems long after they come home from Brazil.

I was fortunate to serve in the United States, where tapeworms are mostly restricted to sewers and the federal government. This did not mean, however, that my mission was bereft of any odd medical excitement.

One morning while getting out of the shower, I looked in the mirror and noticed that a portion of my anatomy that is meant to be more or less symmetrical was now leaning toward the less symmetrical. Alarmed, I called my companion and told him in general terms what the problem was. Elder Jones insisted that he see the afflicted area, and with some reluctance I showed him. Elder Jones chose that moment to mention a missionary he’d known in the MTC who had been sent home with cancer to this very same anatomical region, so I grew unnerved.

We called the mission president’s wife, Sister Koyle, who handled medical matters.

"Hey, uh, Sister Koyle?"

"Yes, Elder Kunz," she said in that sweet grandmotherly voice that suggested I had caught her in the middle of baking cookies.

"Hey," I said, trying not to sound as awkward and alarmed as I felt. "Um, I was looking in the mirror this morning and I saw that ..."

To her credit, Sister Koyle acted as though she always received desperate calls from distressed missionaries informing her of mysterious ailments to their most sacred parts. (Maybe she did get those calls all the time.) She directed us to a hospital in Albuquerque, stressing that we didn’t know anything yet and it could be totally innocent. (That was easy for her to say, I reflected as Elder Jones and I took the impromptu two-hour trip to Albuquerque that morning.)

At the hospital, a rather attractive nurse called me in to check me for the suspected malady, which only compounded the awkwardness already inherent from the nature of my medical complaints and the intimacy required to fully scrutinize the area in question. More than once I had to think intently about pterodactyls in order to avoid blushing too hard.

As we waited for the results, I told Elder Jones of my intimate encounter with the nurse. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing. The levity was good to alleviate the stress that came from wondering whether I would soon be subjected to chemotherapy.

We soon discovered that the asymmetry I had discovered that morning had no malignant cause. Instead, I had harmless varicose veins down there, which felt strange but had no negative effects. I was told to get the problem corrected when I returned home, but that it wouldn’t affect my missionary service in the slightest.