Friday, April 8

Take Two of These...

I went to the doctor yesterday.  Just a check-up - or a "check-in," as I like to say. It's kinda weird how someone I avoid like the plague can make me feel like I am one of her good friends.  She remembers my name, my issues, etc.  So either she likes me, or she is AMAZING at faking it.... 

But I mean, what's not to love?  :)

I have to say that, aside from the poking and prodding and nosy questions, the reason I avoid the doctor so much is that I feel like when I step into the office, I am stepping into a whole other world. 

It smells weird. Not gross or dirty. Not patchouli-weird.
Just weird.

And speaking of weird - the other patients!  Thankfully, yesterday there was only one other woman in the waiting room.  But she was -ahem- interesting.  Apparently she was quite restless, and she decided to wander around and around and around the room, until I was quite dizzy for her. Now and then I could hear her either speaking or singing under her breath.  I tried to bury my face in National Geographic...

The receptionist is apparently bipolar.  There have been days when she is the most sugary sweet lady I have ever met.  But other days - like yesterday - she is scary and mean and apparently hates me.  Or maybe she hated the lady making like Magellan in the waiting room. I sat in a chair far away from her desk, just in case she started having an episode.

The nurses can be the same way.  Sometimes it seems like it's all they can bear just to walk me to the scale to get my weight  (right, like that's not stressful on ME?).  But then to have to take my blood pressure and ask me questions - I mean, I guess we are asking too much of them.  Yesterday's nurse was awesome though - friendly enough and very thorough.  She perked up a good deal when she saw my butterfly tattoo, so we chatted about that a bit. I always enjoy talking tattoo-talk.

But then there's that awkward time in between when the nurse leaves and the doctor comes in, and I am left to look around the tiny room and let my thoughts wander.

Do I have osteoporosis?
Do I need botox?
Why is there an ad for botox next to the poster about osteoporosis?
How did they get a model for the poster of the cross-section of a pregnant woman without hurting the baby?
Would anyone know if I took some of those huge tongue depressers?  They would be awesome art tools....
Those long q-tips too.
Why is there a syringe on the counter?

And then my doctor comes in.  Half smile.  Questions. Answers.  Nodding.  Typing (she has a laptop). Cold hands.  COLD stethoscope.  Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Awkwardness.  But she was comforting and helpful, and I felt confident in her assessments. So I guess really, in spite of the weirdness, yesterday's visit was a successful one.

But don't make me go back anytime soon.

Because I won't.    

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