Tag Archives: doctors

It Was A Dark And Stormy Night…


What did YOUR Uterus do today?

It all started when  decided to pretend-pay my bills. I do this usually once a month. I open up all of the bill-ish looking mail that I have been sticking in a basket on my desk for the prior 29 days. Then, I very adultly decide which bills I will pay and which can wait for another 29 days or so. Sometimes I find fun things disguised as bills, like, letters letting me know I have accumulated enough points on my cell phone bill to get 3% off of a brand new toaster ( I don’t toast things so…)  Or a letter from a fellow village resident letting me know that we have someone in the neighborhood who is using all of the bandwidth ( I don’t know what bandwidth is so…). Or, in the case of Last Night, a letter from my GYN telling me I was scheduled for a “procedure” at 9am…the next morning….which would be this morning.

And so, I went to hang out at my doctor’s office  at 9am. I mean, there was a “procedure” to take place , but I guess the warm up to that was me sitting pants-less for 45 minutes in anticipation. Yeah. 45 minutes of no pants. I swear it must be somewhere in my Permanent Record that I enjoy sitting ass naked in exam rooms. I don’t, but somewhere along the line, someone got the impression that I did, and now, here we are, 43 years later…free ballin…again. I have to say I was curious as to what  this “procedure” would entail. Aren’t you curious?

The nurse came in and took my blood pressure. 119 over 77. She complimented me on my low blood pressure (nurses always do, which is why I added it to my online dating profile). I asked her what all this “procedure” was going to be like. She was pretty vague…something about iodine and a small amount of blood and uterus and cervix. You know how some people hate the word moist? I feel the same way about the word cervix. It absolutely makes me want to gag. I think that is why I had such a hard time going into labor spontaneously. The thought of my cervix doing ANYTHING grosses me out the door.

Anyway, after about 4 days and 1200 texts to my friends about being half naked for no good reason, the doctor came in. She went over what she was about to do. It was something about a straw with a cutting tool and maybe a telescope? something about a spatula and then she said cervix and I tuned out.

I assumed the position, scootched down 3 times and tried to go to my happy place in my mind. All of the sudden, I felt this blinding pain, a cross between a cramp and buck shot being directed into my abdominal cavity. For a minute, I thought my missing right ovary had returned with assault weapons and possibly a rabid narwhal. I probably would have kicked the doctor right in the ear but I think I was being pinned to the table from the inside. There may have been some swearing, there was absolutely some begging and bargaining. At one point, I believe I may have promised the nurse a new car if she would just get the doctor out of my cootch long enough for me to jump out the window.

And then I heard the doctor sigh and say “Well, your cervix is very cooperative but….blah blah blah blahblahblahblah” Yeah, she said the magic word and that was all it took. Let’s just wrap up this TMI nightmare by saying that I had NOT planned on this nonsense today. In fact, I was headed into work when I decided to take this detour into female hell. I love being a girl, there are so many reasons to love being a girl. But the down-there doctor always makes me rethink my stance on feminism.

There is more to the story but, I will leave you with this thought : A gynecologist is simply a dentist for your lady bits.

Dear Diary, My Friends Are Jealous


No, seriously, they are. Which I think is stupid but hey…I guess since they know all of the intimate details of my life they must feel like they are lacking or something. Anyway, let me tell you about my week…so I can make the rest of you feel jealous…Started out with my desk top dying. I know I know, first world probs…whatev. Put it in context. The context is I LIVE IN A FIRST WORLD COUNTRY. Believe me, if I was in West Africa this whole blog would be about Ebola, if I was in the Middle East it would be all about war and if I was in Scotland, it would be about how stupid my countrymen are. But I live here so…

Follow up the desk top dying with the bathroom sink deciding that it wanted new pipes. It didn’t consult with me before it made this decision, just went ahead and started leaking. So, the plumber came and cut away part of my kitchen ceiling, told me there was some sort of nest near the pipes and he would be back next week. Let’s keep track…that’s a dead computer, a leaking bathroom sink necessitating removal of the kitchen ceiling and discovery of a nest that has now been disturbed and is directly above the hole. So far so good. Jealous yet? Oh, did I mention that my debit card number was stolen and my checking account cleaned out? Yes well, what can I say? I’m just luckier than you..

I had a few days respite. Mainly because I had no money. I just sat in my kitchen, below the hole, with a shotgun awaitin fer that dern animal to show it’s furry little face. Ok, I’m exaggerating. I didn’t have a shot gun. I had a tennis racket. And iffen that animal pokes it’s head outta that there hole I’ma whoop it square inatween it’s eyes and cook it fer dinner. That part I am serious about. We’re hungry.

Next up, I decided to make dinner. I decided on potatoes. I took out my mandolin and played the theme from Deliverance. Just kidding. A mandolin is a kitchen aid that slices stuff with a wicked sharp blade. It is tilted at an angle and you slide whatever it is you need sliced back and forth and it makes uniform slices. It comes with this handy little tool that stabs the vegetable so that your hands stay safe and far away from the very sharp blade. But I rarely use the handy little tool. Because, duh. So, I was sliding the potato and it was slicing nicely and then….the potato slipped.

And I sliced off a chunk of my middle finger. Now, I have done things like this before so I walked over to the sink to run my finger under water and I saw bone. Yup. You’re turning green with jealousy now aren’t you? So, I scream for my kid who takes her time because she think I am yelling for her because the dog pooped or something and she is going to have to clean it up. Now there I stand with a good chunk of my finger missing, blood everywhere and the kid just meandering down the stairs la tee da….I scream ” GET THE DOG WE HAVE TO GO TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM NOW!” I swear I have never seen a teenager move so fast. She chased the dog into his crate and came running back. I was already in the car. As she came out the door it occurred to me that I might need the missing chunk which was laying somewhere in the pile of potato slices.

I yelled for my kid to find the chunk of finger in case it needed to be reattached and grab a Coke out of the fridge as I hadn’t eaten all day and I was feeling a little woosey and the ER is about 25 minutes away. She didn’t even question it. Just turned around, found my finger chunk, grabbed a Coke and ran to the car. What followed was 25 minutes of me driving, singing, swearing and laughing at the absurdity of it all. My kid sat in the passenger seat, supporting my arm so my finger stayed above my head and watching me for any signs that I might be passing out from loss of blood.

We got to the ER and waited. It wasn’t crowded. Just 2 people ahead of me. The triage nurse asked me all of the usual questions and then didn’t believe me when I said I have never had a surgery. No idea why she didn’t believe me but she sat there stunned and then said “Are you sure?” Um…yeah…pretty sure I would remember having a surgery or at least someone would have told me or I would have had a scar or…wait….maybe I HAVE had a surgery…maybe this nurse who I have never met before in my life is right…I mean, she IS a nurse and I am just some lady with a chopped off finger chunk, a dead computer, a leaking bathroom and some sort of critter living in my ceiling hole. What do I know? Maybe she was just jealous.They finally took me back to the exam room and the nurse said something no one wants to hear when going into an ER ” It’s a little messy in here”. The Doctor came in. He was very funny. He looked at the finger chunk my kid had so thoughtfully brought along and held the whole time because it grossed me out to even think about it. He said we could make a necklace out of it if we wanted but it wasn’t going back where it came from. He ripped off the paper towel and made my kid look at my wound as he said ” YOU should have been slicing the potatoes!” Then he bandaged me up while I sat there making ugly faces and singing “This is the grossest thing that has ever happened to me and I am so grossed out cause this is gross gross me out the door grossey gross gross…” It was a pretty good song.

The Doctor asked me all the usual questions : chest pain? no. throat pain? no. diabetus? no. allergies? no. surgery? no. And he paused…surgery? no. None? no. Ever? no…What the heck? Maybe I need surgery for something? I mean, now that you mention it, my gallbladder has been feeling sort of off now and then…will that make my finger stop hurting? Medical professionals are weird.

He left. We sat there waiting for the nurse to come back to see if I had changed my mind about having had surgery in the past. I stuck by my original answer of no, no surgeries and they let me go. I left my finger chunk on the tray in case they needed it for someone else. I’m generous like that.

So, my darling friends, if you weren’t jealous of my fabulous life before I know you are now. Also, I typed this whole post with just my left hand. It took HOURS. All so you can envy me. You want to be me. And here are some pictures for you to drool over…

In the waiting room...holding the finger chunk in what shall hence forth be referred to as my Good Hand

In the waiting room…holding the finger chunk in what shall hence forth be referred to as my Good Hand

The Finger Chunk

The Finger Chunk

Lookit ma finger!!!!

Lookit ma finger!!!!

No for real, this face makes my finger feel better

No for real, this face makes my finger feel better

This is my

This is my “does this bandage make my finger look fat” face…

Ask me if I have had surgery in the past again...go ahead...ASK ME.

Ask me if I have had surgery in the past again…go ahead…ASK ME.

Dear Diary, Day :UGH

I think the other pic I posted explains why I am always the maid of honor, never the maid...*sigh*

I think the other pic I posted explains why I am always the maid of honor, never the maid…*sigh*

Started off with a text from somebody that I used to know. In fact, many texts…delete, delete, delete, respond. Bad idea. But I’m sort of famous for my bad ideas. It’s like my “thing”. Some people can tie cherry stems in a knot with just their tongue, some people can escape handcuffs, me? I can make bad decisions without a second thought. But, it’s all good anyway. Reminded me that this person is, simply put, a total douchebag. Moving on…

Went to the doctor for that pain in my neck (no not the above referenced douchebag). Since the pain has all but abated, we decided to not do anything right now. But the next time, whoa, the NEXT time this nerve pain flares up we are gonna kick it’s ass with drugs and tests and eventually surgery!!! Take THAT you freaking nerve pain!!!!!

While waiting in line to talk to the receptionist, I mean whisper to the receptionist because she was unsure that the doctor accepted my new- from- the- Exchange- insurance and we are supposed to whisper when we talk about the ACA and the Exchange? there was a mouth breather behind me. That’s all well and good but it’s flu season. And he was the same height as my ear. I shifted forward, he shifted forward. Hot breath on my neck, from a stranger, during flu season, NOT my idea of sexy time. I inched forward, he inched forward. I was basically pressed into the woman in front of me when the mouth breather’s wife finally said “why don’t you go sit down and I will check you in?” Thank God because the people in front of me were just about to go down like dominoes.

I left the doctor after quizzing her on nerves, muscles and vertebra. I showed her the lump in my neck that no one knows what it is…she was unimpressed. I went and picked up the kids from school and went on to work. Work went well. The younger girls are all excited because next week is mid winter break and the big girls are just all sorts of teenage fun.

Got home, got in bed, and now I have to get up to go heat up my own damn footbag.

I have a date for Valentines Day!

Along with my excellent bad decision making skills I am also very very good at forgetting things. It’s a blessing, really.

That is all sorts of preteen  hotness stuffed into a unitard...The Heat Is On...

That is all sorts of preteen hotness stuffed into a unitard…The Heat Is On…

Doctor, when I go like ‘this’ it hurts…


I could keep him busy for years....

I just got insurance!!! I seriously never believed that I would actually be excited about getting health insurance! But I am!I have been uninsured for years now. And of course, as I was uninsured, but such a lover of pop culture, I had to be obvious and contract swine flu at the height of the outbreak, which turned into a severe case of double pneumonia. Because I am nothing if not relevent and I always am in step with what is happening in the world. Swine flu? Yup, had it. Double pneumonia resulting from swine flu in the middle of July? I’m so hip I took it to the extreme.

That racked me up a 14,000.00 hospital bill. That is the price I pay for being on the cutting edge of current events. Anyway, living without health insurance can make a person sick. I finally found a way to buy really crappy health insurance. Yea me! And I took myself right to the doctor who looked after me when I was released from my week long hospital stay last summer. He is a nice enough guy. But, his patients average age is 84. I am 37. I imagine myself to be a breath of fresh air in his day of diagnosing high blood pressure, incontinence and bunions. I come in with simpler complaints.

Hello doctor! Today, I have a lump on my neck. He checks it out and says he believes it is just an over extended muscle. Ok, I say. How about my exhaustion, my dizziness and my plugged ear? He looked in my ear, checked my thyroid levels and told me to stop riding the carosel at the mall. Damn it. There is no stumping this guy! I KNOW!! This mole on my face! Sometimes it burns for no reason!! Ha HA! He checks it out and says “hhmmmm” I know I’ve got him now! He says “yes, well, that does look very suspicious” at which point I start singing “suspicious mole..you’re teasing me” like that song Promiscuous Girl by Nelly Furtado. Yeah, he didn’t get it either. He said “very suspicious indeed. I will make an appointment with the dermatologist for this.” So I said “If it’s that suspicious then why not just arrest it right now?” He was not amused. He just looked at me with his doctor stare and said “any other complaints?” I said “well, I am fat. And it seems to be a vicious cycle. I excercise, become exhausted and literally fall asleep and am wiped out for at least a week. So, because I am exhausted, I can’t excercise. Whatcha got for that aliment?” He smirked with that little confession and said “nothing. I got nothing.” Yup, that is why he gets paid the big bucks.

Oh happy day. I get to visit the dermatologist!! Well, not until January as they are just that booked. Everyone except me seems to be really concerned that I should wait so long. Tomorrow I go to the orthopedic for my broken foot and dislocated toe. I would rather be seeing a podiatrist but my insurance doesn’t cover a podiatrist. And I have been hobbling around for months. Having insurance is so fun!!! I scheduled my girly parts doctor visit and felt like a woman again!! It’s not that I enjoy the doctor, or being sick or the threat of suspicious moles or anything, but worrying about your health and not being able to do anything about it is such a depressing place to be. Especially when you are a single mother. I will take advantage of this crappy insurance whist I can so doctors beware!! Because I have learned, the very hard way, that nothing, nothing at all, lasts forever. Insurance, suspicious moles and human beings….everything changes. My eyebrow is twitching…I have to go call the doctor for an appointment….STAT!!!

Speaking of broken toes


The Toe

When I was 17, I was living with my best friend in Houston, Texas. That sentence is all sorts of a bad idea. Who’s parent lets their 17-year-old daughter move half way across the country with her best friend? Mine. Because when they realized they were only having one child, they read Dr. Spock’s chapter in his famous book and it said the most important thing to know about raising an only child is to NOT over protect them. My parents took that to heart. There was no over protection happening in my house!!

Anyway, I decided to audition for a few local dance companies. I was pretty homesick and I knew that I would find home once I was back in a studio. I jumped into the South By South West Jazz Ballet Company (The Unofficial U.S.O.). Fun little company. And it was like being home. Any dancer will tell you that they can walk into any dance class in the world and be home. Not that they make you cookies or wipe your nose or hold you when you cry. But the feelings of inadequacy, frustration, and despair feel like home….I’m kidding!!! It’s something about the structure, or the movements, or knowing what’s expected of you that can give  a sense of peace.

The Gulf War had just broken out, and being this company was the Unofficial U.S.O. we immediately started working on some patriotic pieces to tour with. We had a trip planed to Saudi Arabia (which was cancelled because of the escalating violence and the speed in which the war was taking off). In rehearsal for these pieces, I injured my toe. I was doing this great grande jete, and I landed on the middle toe of my right foot. It was swollen immediately and one of the boys had to drive me home. We were laughing and crying all the way home cause it really was funny, but it really did hurt.

I got home and iced it and kept it elevated. But by about midnight it was still throbbing, so I talked my roommate into driving me to the ER. Now, here we are a couple of young girls, in Houston, at midnight, looking for a hospital. We had a general idea of where the hospital was. There was a whole section of the city that was just hospitals. We find one and go on in. There was no one around. Strange. So, we hop on the elevator. Now I am still limping and we are kind of laughing at me limping. A doctor gets on the elevator with us and we ask her which way the emergency room is. She kind of paused, looked us over, smiled in a “poor stupid kids” kind of way and then explained to us that we were in a psychiatric hospital and they didn’t have an ER and unless the voices in my head told me my toe was broken in which case they could admit me.

That sent us into buckets of giggles. She eventually pointed us in the right direction for the hospital that could help me and my toe. We arrived and sat in the ER for about 5 hours amongst gun shot victims, old men having heart attacks, little kids puking and one lady giving birth. It was way better than tv!! I was finally put into a curtained cubicle to wait another 2 hours. Lucky for me my friend was resigned at this point to making the best out of our little excursion and we had all sorts of fun. Stealing gigantic Q-tips and tounge depressors and blowing up rubber gloves. Yeah, stick a couple of teenagers in a ER for 7 hours and watch the fun!!

The doctor finally comes in and looks at my foot. He was from another country so I had a hard time understanding him over all the wailing and screaming coming from the waiting room area. Anyway, he starts examining my big toe. Big toe, the first toe on my right foot. NOT the toe I injured. I injured my middle toe. But hey, what do I know. He’s the Doc. He finally bends it and asks if it hurts. I said “no, but that’s not the one I injured”. He looks at me like I was nuts as he had just spent minutes examining a perfectly fine toe. I point to the middle toe and explain that is the one I injured. He checks it out, determines that it is most likely broken and tapes it to my other toes. He re-examines my big toe again and then looks at me with total seriousness and says “This one isn’t broken?” I said no. “He said “was it ever broken?” I said no. He said “it’s the biggest big toe I have ever seen….” and with that he left. My friend and I lost it!! We had been up all night, getting chased out of mental hospitals and watching people die and give birth and this doctor has the nerve to insult my big toe!! It was just too much!! And to this day I have a complex about the size of my big toe.

I was back to dancing (in pain) within the week. My middle toe healed but my big toe never quite got over the slight from the doctor. I can’t complain because it has served me well over these 37 years. I have grown fond of it. I think it looks like a short, fat bald guy. Both of my big toes look like short, fat, bald guys. Maybe I should have stayed at the psych hospital….