oy
So I went for my most recent tri-monthly check-up at the hospital. After the nurse weighs me and blood pressures and temperatures me they send in some clueless doctor I’ve never seen before. Almost every time. And he’s always a he and he always looks terribly uncomfortable and it’s always a bad surprise because all I really want is Dr. Z.
This guy had a German accent and immediately without warning or permission, poked the surgery scar on my neck. Poke! “Ow,” I said, recoiling. “Oh, sorry,” he said. “Why does that still hurt?” It’s moments like these when I wish I was a quicker on my feet asshole. Then he asks how I am and I say that my energy fluctuates, still a little on the low side. “Did chemo stress you out?” he asks. Really. He asked this. I’m quicker on the snark draw this time but it’s lost on him. “Is there anyone it doesn’t?” I ask. “Oh, yes,” he nods vigorously his floppy blond hair flapping. “Some people they just go in, and say ‘oops i lost my hair!’ and come out like nothing happened.”
He asked about the hot flashes and I told him I got period back. “Oh yes?” he asks. “How do you like that?”
Jesus-lordy.
Anyway, the real news is that I’m fine. Dr. Z came in finally for the main show, doing a much more thorough exam than Dr. Goethe (not his real name), focusing as he rearranges my intestines. He complimented my curly, curly hair and said it won’t stay this curly. He said it’s cute. Agreed to be interviewed for my book. Sat a while.
And even Dr. Pokey Goethe said, “You look like a healthy girl to me!”
Well, thankfully, I feel like a pretty healthy, albeit underemployed, girl, woman. Happy to have gone to my tenth college reunion(!). Happy to be heading off to Maui for a week on Thursday for a lovely wedding under and with the stars. And then I’ll get to work on getting more work.
Okay, it’s late. Thanks again for reading if you still are. I have more to say but later. It’s almost 3 am. So, later. And thanks.
