Last Cold Of The Winter, Continued

Ok, so I have broken down and made an appointment with my doctor for this stupid cold that is still bothering me. It’s been like three weeks, people! I hate going to the doctor and it takes a lot to get me in. I hate that it requires taking off work and driving to the other side of town. I hate sitting in that germ infested waiting room and playing “Guess what sickness that is” by listening to the sound of the hacking cough coming out of the person sitting three feet away from me. I hate the fact that even if the magazines weren’t covered in God knows what kind of nasty germies, they’re all from August of 2003 so I wouldn’t read them anyway. I hate that the nurse weighs me and tells me not to bother taking off my shoes not knowing that she’s forcing me to violate my rule of half-nekkid, empty stomach and bladder, once a month weigh ins! I hate that when you get to the individual waiting room there’s that biohazard box full of needles reminding me of how I’m totally scared of getting a shot. I hate that when the doctor does come in, he always turns out to be young and cute and then I have to lift my shirt up so he can listen to my heartbeat and I’m thinking about how nice the view of my fat rolls and love handles must be for him. Ok, I could go on and on but those are my basic reasons for avoiding the doctor’s! Yet for all my avoidance of seeing my doctor, I sometimes can get a little hypochondriac-like about the littlest aches and pains. Note the following: Ache in my foot? It must be bone spurs! Wait, don’t you actually have to exercise and move around a lot to get a bone spur? Yes… but you never know! And so goes the thought process of my silly little brain. So how did I come to the conclusion that like it or not, I better go in? Well, I was watching a really fascinating program on the brain and how it works. They were showing this teenager who had strep throat that he had let go untreated and then it spread to his brain and resulted in his displaying Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Well, I am prone to strep and have had a sore throat on and off for a few weeks now. Instantly, some crazy little part of my brain was like, “Shit! That’s it, I’m going to the doctor because knowing my luck I would totally end up with OCD!” Yes, I know that’s really far fetched and stupid. Don’t worry; you don’t have to tell me I’m silly, I already know! Regardless of how crazy my reason why, I broke down and made my appointment for tomorrow, the 28th, which coincidentally happens to be my weigh in day. Therefore, I’ll be weighing in tomorrow morning before my appointment and I’ll just be ignoring whatever the doctor’s scale tells me. Aren’t medical files permanent, though? If only I could get her to write my number in the chart instead of her evil scale’s!