You Want Me To Cut Back on What?

I spent the better part of Tuesday at routine doctor appointments. You know the ones that, thankfully, you only have to schedule once a year. The ones where they know you better than anyone else in some ways. I have been going to the same OB/GYN office since I was 19 years old ( you do the math ) so it is like going to a reunion every year. New employees fill the office each time but some of the same oldies are still around, including me. Now instead of the 3 old docs that used to be there it is a practice of about 10 doctors. It's in the same exact location it was through all my pregnancies so it is rather nostalgic to look around and think that I used to sit there so very pregnant like the young ones sitting by me. My file looks like a rough draft of War and Peace when it comes off the shelf our out of the vault or where ever they store the monstrosity.

Yet, every year when I go, I have to fill out the same paper work. NOTHING about me has changed. But, I politely fill it out anyway. Well, politely, after mumbling under my breath that nothing is new. They just want something else to ram into my already bulging file.



The waiting room is always packed 3 feet deep and there always seems to be a man for every woman. Every "babies daddy" is there. I don't even remember my husband ever going to the OB dr. with me except when I was too huge to pull myself off the waiting room chair when they called my name. I love the generation of men now that take responsibility for the fatherhood thing in all aspects. Not just the "raising" part. My sons all do that stuff too.

I think I gave all the blood I had in my body for tests. Having blood drawn does not even bother me. The girl that was going ahead of me was all clammy and sweaty and horrified. She was asking all the techs had long they had been "drawing" blood because she wanted the most experienced. Her husband kept patting her and the techs were rolling their eyes at her when she wasn't looking. I thought they would be gentle with me since I was so brave and all. After she left, one of the girls mentioned in a whisper that she was glad she wasn't going to be around when she had to give birth! A blood draw, at this point, is the least of her worries.

When it was finally my time to go in we spent our usual first 30 minutes chit chatting about life and what I am doing, how are the kids and how things are in the 'ville. And on and on....... I had not been there before my work status had changed to RETIRED so we had to talk about that. It actually felt cool to cross out the work numbers on the forms and write it in~ Then we had to talk some about how other health issues were going and somehow we ended up talking about my coffee intake. Don't ask how that happened. Dr.'s seem obsessed with caffeine. Especially when they realize they have a very hyperactive heart patient on their table in a vulnerable and captive position. I reassured her that I really have cut back since I am not working. I always had my cup full at work and drank way too much. Since I have been home I usually enjoy 2 full cups in the morning and then switch to tea.......AH, you mean tea has caffeine in it? Of course, I told her my coffee resembled a small mug when in all reality it looks something like this......Caffeine is NOT good for heart patients. Let that be a lesson to you!


Maybe I do need to cut back a little ..........Ok...so I'll cut back a little.






As I was leaving, after scoring a 10 on a possible score of 10, she took out her script pad. I begged for no more meds but she quickly assured me I would like this one. It was a "fake" prescription for a spa retreat. She said she wanted me to go pamper myself for a change. I always did like her.

The mammogram went ok........we won't talk about it. But, if you have a woman in your life you love, make sure that she faithfully gets a mammogram EVERY year. I don't think age 30 is too young to start. In fact, I think it should be mandatory and law enforced. I am totally encouraging my daughters to go have one ASAP. I have seen too many friends and family suffer from this type of the "c" word. My daughters have even lost some friends to it.

So, for another year, barring the return of bad labs or scans, I am squeaky healthy. Disgustingly healthy. Jealously healthy. I just need another cup of coffee.