Moon River (sort of)

Joy of all joys I got to go the doctor's this morning. And even better, it was the kind of appointment where only girls need to go . . if you get my drift. (That's right, where the sun don't shine.)
(Well, at least not since my honeymoon.)

It's always hard for me to pick out my favorite part at these appointments. Is it the outfits (sheets), nakedness? The temperature? The bill? The wait?

Let's start with the temperature. I've never wanted to be a carp (unicorn--a different story), --but cold-blooded would not be such a bad state of alive to be in when buck naked across wrapping paper tissued vinyl gurneys in arctic rooms.

And docs are best at making their appearance after giving you a healthy twenty-five minutes of feeling good and vulnerable. I guess they figure by than your lips are too blue to form the words "Yicks!" or "Jiminy Crickets!" when cold metal devices are used. I can hardly understand a word the doctor says either, --but maybe it's because I am too distracted by the fact that I can see his breath when he speaks.

As I stiffly--from the hypothermia setting in--turn my head to plea to the fellow female in the room---you know, the one who always wanted to be a nurse since she was a little girl, so she could help others---I see there will be no eye contact for us. I decide that could be either from the fact that she was the one who just had to weigh me, and is still feeling the shock of her life, --or she is bothered from the sight of the pirates hat I fashioned from extra paper sheets in an effort to keep the body heat from escaping through my head. Either way I can tell we are no more buddies.

What is it about women that make us turn on each other? I feel like Mister Fancy-Pants McTouches-A-Lot might never leave, but my gal-pal? It seems like she can't wait to leave. She and the other nurses must be late for a leeching.

I guess I know where all my stress could be coming from. I still can't figure out why they would need my first born to cover the bill. If we had the money we'd give it to them for pete's sake. We're still trying to catch up from the sports physical my youngest had last month so he can play school badminton.

It's sure not our parents world anymore, I'll tell ya. Was a time I know a doctor would come by just because of a phone call put in!

I'm feeling more than a little guilty though. I told my six year old niece I had been horseback riding all day when she asked what was wrong with my gait. Let the little bugger find out for herself. Heck, these kids get ipods growing up. All we had were Pick-Up-Sticks and blades of grass to play with.