keeps the doctor away. I usually take down 2-3 apples in a day so I should be set for life right?! Welp, that statements a big fat lie (the no doctor part due to apple consumption, not the ‘I can eat countless apples in a day.'<— I can.)
I need to talk about my feelings/observations on the doctor’s office. Why? Because going to the Doctor’s office is such a weird adventure to me. Always.
Let’s get started.
Apparently, there is no internet/phone service in the doctor’s office now. Is this a new thing? Really, I’m just not a fan.
Side note: Just in case you were seriously concerned, it was just a check up. No babes, no sickness, no diseases, no dying. I may be crazy but at least I’m healthy 😉
Back on track- no phoneo serviceo. What gives? What am I supposed to do? I love the mini panick attack I have when I realize I have no phone service. Breathe Caitlin, facebook isn’t going anywhere.
Why so. many. questions? Half of the questions I didn’t even know the answer to. I know my cell phone number, I know my address, but no I haven’t written a will yet and no, I actually don’t know my dad’s cell phone (opps, sorry dad!). In case I die tomorrow or become unresponsive, please just call my mother- she seems to know me better than I know me. I just ended up giving the reception lady 3 cards when she asked for my insurance. I told her I was new to this whole “growing-up” thing/my mom isn’t here to do this for me so please bare with me. She smiled and gave me 2 cards back.
What’s with all the old, outdated magazines/parenting magazines? My choices were basically literature on joint pain or parenting 101. Since I was not in the mood to educate myself on either of those, I stuck to staring at the wall and people watching. Good times, good times.
The dreaded scale. Dun dun dunnnnnn. Let’s have a moment of honesty- everyone hates the scale. Well, everyone except men. And babies. Because they probably never step on a scale/care about the number on the scale. So women… all woman hate the scale. I’m sorry but it’s the truth. Growing up we were never allowed to have a scale in our house because my mom didn’t believe in having one. Thank you mom. So why must I be weighed before I go see the doctor? First of all, I just downed a
large grande Starbucks and I’m wearing a heavy leather jacket. “Excuse me nurse, you need to knock 5 pounds off of that number. I still am wearing my shoes and I mean, I’ve been stressed lately. I swear, that number must be wrong. Here, let me take off my clothes and let’s start over.”
Next time I’m stepping on it backwards. Or boycotting it. Again, really just not a fan.
The blood pressure gadget. I hate it. I’m cool with the knee wacker and the throat gag stick but the blood pressure thing f r e a k s me out. It’s like I have this fear of it never stopping. I imagine it just getting tighter and tighter until it completely cuts off my circulation and my little arm bursts. Gah! Plus, I always panic when the nurse reports the number back to me “okay 300/82.” Okay? Is that good? Answer me!
That awkward time between the nurse leaving and the doctor coming okay.
Nurse (after all the questionnaires have been completed): “Okay the doctor will be right in!”
day hour later, doctor arrives.
I always wonder what the heckkkkkkkkk is the doctor doing out there during that time? I imagine him/her roaming around the halls, hanging out with his doctor friends. Or maybe he/she’s getting it on Grey’s anatomy style in those bunk bed rooms they have in hospitals. (Do those really exist?) I’m not really sure but it always takes f o r e v e r. This is always so awkward to me because it’s such a quiet, tiny room so I’m not exactly sure what to do with myself. Really, I want to get up and test out the knee wacker but I’m afraid this one time the doctor will actually be on time and walk in on me banging out my own knee. “Oh hey doc, just checking out the equipment!”
Instead, I stay glued to my chair and investigate the room from afar. I read all the pamphlets (within an arms reach) about 800 times. I’m so full of knowledge by the time I leave you could call me a doctor! <–kidding, but I sure do know how to use the knee wacker (favorite tool if you couldn’t tell. I was this close to stealing it. Shh!)
Finally, the doctor arrives. (Yippie!)
Well, first he/she knocks on the door. I’m never really sure how to respond to this. “It’s open! come in!”…or “Who is it?”…orrrrrrr just pure s i l e n c e.
I choose silence tonight and went with a simple “hey” once the doctor opened the door.
After this, its basically smooth sailing. As long I don’t have to give any blood or have any shots no one will get hurt.
And there’s my adventures in going to see the doctor. Exhausted? I am.