Friday, November 10, 2006

The Todd appreciates hot, regardless of gender.

I started this morning off with a fun-filled trip to the doctor. You really haven't lived until you've had your weight announced in earshot of the waiting room before you've even had your coffee, but oh here's the funny part, you've chosen this week to give up coffee because you don't want to make the reason you're at the doctor's office any worse than it already is. And judging by the killer headache you've had for the past four days, it was probably a good idea to give coffee up now before the addiction got any worse.

This was the first time I've gone to the doctor in . . . I don't know, a long time. Because I don't like to go to the doctor and I'm not one of those people who'll just go to the doctor every year for a "check up." Who does that? Who are you people? I don't understand you. I, like any normal (or whatever) person, don't go to the doctor unless I have something that I cannot cure with an ever-changing mix of denial, ibuprofen, and tequila. Also? At the doctor they make you pee in a cup. Something I hardly ever do at home. I peed on my hand a little. I know. I KNOW. I have no idea why I felt the need to share that with you, Internets, but there it is.

And now I bring you, a Conversation With My Doctor That, OK, Existed Primarily In My Own Head:

Dr: Hi, nice to meet you.
Me: You, too.
Dr: Is your blood pressure normally this high?
Me: Only when I'm in a doctor's office.
Dr: White coat syndrome, huh?
Me: Yeah, heh.
Dr: But otherwise it's normal?
My Head: Oh, god, she thinks I'm a freak and that I'm lying and that my blood pressure is normally 230 over eighty thousand.
Me: Yes, otherwise it's normal.
Dr: Good, good. Any blood in your urine?
My Head: Oh my god, why is she asking me that? We just met! Oh god, I have cancer and she doesn't want to tell me. Why is she dragging this out? Just tell me. "Jennie, you have cancer and have approximately six months to live." I'm going to die single, and alone, and childless, and worst of all, I haven't even become famous yet. Shit.
Me: Um, no.
Dr: Good, well your urinalysis showed that you're very well hydrated.
My Head: Awesome. My goal is to drink eight glasses of water a day. It's fun. Like a game.
Me: Great.
Dr: Are you sexually active?
My Head: What? Can we go back to talking about my urine?
Me: Um.
Dr: So, what do you do for fun?
My Head: Have imaginary conversations with my doctor? Write nonsense in my blog? Um. Drink?
Me: Oh, just . . . hang out with friends. And I like to read.
Dr: Oh, really? That's great!
My Head: Yes. Jennie read good.
Me: Yeah.
Dr: Read anything good lately?
My Head: Besides blogs?
Me: Well, right now I'm reading When We Were Orphans. It's pretty good so far.
Dr: Oh, let me write that down. I'm always looking for new stuff to read. So what's it about?
My Head: Is she testing my mental acuity or something?
Me: It's about this detective in London in the 30's. He's just becoming well-known. And his parents disappeared when he was young, so he's kind of looking into that.
Dr: Sounds great.
My Head: I am boring myself.
Me: It is. It's really good.
Dr: OK, well, everything looks good here, we'll let you know how the tests come back blah blah have a good day.
My Head: Shouldn't we have spent less time talking about books and more time talking about, I don't know, my urine?
Me: OK, great. Good talk.

It's OK, though. She gave me free drugs. When I was a kid, the only thing I got for going to the doctor was a sucker so, hey . . . bonus.

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