The Doctor Is In

I really dislike going to the doctor.  All of my life I have gotten nervous the minute I step into the building and only feel relief when I am outside the door.  It is completely irrational but it's the same feeling that I got when I would get in trouble at school or at home.  I just know the doctor is going to yell at me for being fat or for not living right.  Rest assured, I rarely got in trouble at school or home and I am perfect.


I had to go to the doctor this week to get my medications refilled.  I arrived a bit early hoping that I could get in right away but I ended up sitting in the waiting room for forty-five minutes.  The waiting room has two tv screens, one playing some news program and the other giving health advice and advertising medications.  The news was all about some missing girl and her mother who beat her and some celebrity scandal.  There was an older man across the room who kept falling asleep and snoring himself back awake which kept me entertained, but it couldn't keep me from getting anxious and thinking that this was a complete waste of time.  


The nurse finally called my name, directed me to the scale (which always lies about my weight), and then took me to the exam room.  She chatted me up a bit (at least she was in a good mood for once), and then took my blood pressure.  She was quite pleased with my numbers this time so that helped relieve some of my anxiety.  She then said the dreaded words, "the doctor will be with you shortly".  


So.....I waited and I waited.  I've known my doctor for ages.  I've even cooked a dinner for him and his wife that my boss decided he wanted to throw.  Hmmm, did I say that right?  Do you actually throw a dinner?  Anyway, the doctor was doing an exam in the room next to mine and I could hear him saying things like, "I am going to order a mammogram for you" and "no, we need to do that now since you're here".  To me that translated as, "to hell with my next patient, she can just wait some more".  I was in that exam room for thirty minutes, chomping at the bit.


Mister Doctor finally strode into the room, read my file on the computer screen, asked me how I was doing, and then chastised me for not getting that mammogram that he ordered last year.  I explained to him that the cost of the test is what is keeping me from getting it, and we discussed my insurance for a bit.  He then ordered another mammogram for this year.  Obama care needs to kick in quicker for the under-insured like me, then tests like mammograms would be more accessible.  He then asked if I have any vaginal bleeding or bloody stool.  Why would he ask that?  He must have been jonesing for a problem to explore.


I then had to go to the phlebotomist (medical vampire) and get my blood taken for my thyroid test and metabolic panel.  This is the first time a vampire has hurt me. Note to vampires, don't move the needle up and down once it's in the vein.  I then made a hasty exit and await my test results.  I assume that they are fine because the "doctor man" never called me about them.


I have survived another medical visit nightmare and I don't plan on going there again in 2010.  The doctor may be in, but I'm outta here.

Funky Town

I have been dragging around for the past month and can't seem to come out of my funk.
It has gotten so bad that I won't allow anyone to come over because my house is so awfully nasty.  Gawd, I sometimes hate this place.  The unsealed cement floor downstairs is hard to keep clean, especially for someone like me who is not the best house keeper in the world.
When I get into this funk I don't have the energy or sedulousness (new word for me) to even bother with vacuuming, let alone mopping, so the grime is out of hand.  Of course, as I let the funk take over it puts me in a deeper funk and the cycle spirals downwards. 

You dear reader are thinking, "Hello!  Depression!".

Now, I don't think I'm depressed but I'll bet a psychologist would think otherwise. 
I remember when my marriage was falling apart and my ex decided to get counseling for himself (not marriage counseling, no he had no desire to "save" the marriage he just wanted to know why he was staying in the relationship) his psychologist told him that I was depressed even though she had never met me.  Fucking bitch.

Here's the deal.  I have wacky thyroid.  About five years ago I began having insomnia.  Then my hands started shaking so bad that I could not write well.  I felt so weak that my legs would even shake.  When I was in bed I would dream that I was running and wake to find my heart pounding so hard I could hear it.  Well, it turned out that I was hyperthyroid (runs in the family) which can cause horrible mood swings.  Let me tell you, I was the bitch from hell most of the time.  
I know, hard to imagine.  
Wacky thyroid can also cause/contribute to high blood pressure.  I'm surprised I didn't have a heart attack as my pressure was so high.  
After taking the three hundred dollar radioactive iodine capsule my thyroid was effectively killed and now I am on thyroid medication for life.  I'm also on blood pressure meds but that's probably because I'm so fat.  Not only do I have wacky thyroid, I'm also over fifty and both factors make it especially hard to keep the weight down.  Of course, I don't try very hard so I can't really blame my weight on that.


Why did I tell you this?  Because I went to the doctor for my yearly medication refill exam and lab work and it turns out that my thyroid medication was not right and my thyroid levels were low.  No wonder I've been in such a funk!

In two weeks, according to my doctor, I should be as good as new when my thyroid levels are back where they should be.  That will be just in the nick of time for that is when Matthew is coming over to install my new kitchen sink cabinet and I will need to get to work cleaning under the existing cabinet and getting all of the junk out of his way.

Get me out of Funky Town!