Now Playing: Big n Rich - Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy
My first thought was actually to write this entire blog in caps because that's just how crappy I feel today. Like I just want to yell at everyone. I'm having a serious pity party or something.
Oh yeah, today's Tif's 21st birthday so
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIF!! YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME! LOL
Okay, that out of my system I can go back to being sullen and cranky.
I forgot to write about my adventure at the clinic on Monday. This one is sure to captivate. Okay, first of all the reason I even decided to swallow any pride and clear my afternoon schedule to sit at that durn clinic was because my allergies are just about to kill me. Secondly, I am decided that I am now ready to lose some of this damn weight.
I have in recent years come to revel in my queen-size figure and my self esteem has skyrocketed, realizing (finally!) that I am sexy and attractive in my own right and if nothing else, my husband loves my curves. But just in the last few months I have become a slug - a hateful, lazy, tired-all-the-time cow and I hate that. I have 3 kids who I would like to watch grow up and the road I'm taking is sending me to a miserable existence on blood pressure and cholesterol lowering medications and no energy to watch ballgames and anything else. I don't want to be that kind of mom!!! SOOOOO...I thought I'd see if they would prescribe me some of those magic weight-loss, appetite reducing pills. Ha! That was a silly thought on my part. It's the Indian clinic, hello! As the hateful doctor told me: "We don't DO diet pills here." Okay, want me to smoke some peyote or what? Native Americans are at such a high risk for diabetes and heart disease, you'd think they'd be a little more aggressive in weight loss approaches. But no. He did offer to let me visit with the dietician. Nah. All they are going to do it put me on a 600 calorie a day, salt restricted, no fat, no flavor diet that there is no way I'd stick to. Well when I went in I had already decided to start Weight Watchers again, I just thought the diet pills would give me a boost or something. *sigh* Weight Watchers is still the plan, just sans drugs. So while he's looking over my chart and I'm sitting there in the incredibly uncomfortable silence he hatefully tells me that my blood pressure is high. Hmm... your attitude and the stress of the clinic itself doesn't have a thing to do with that, Mr Dr-man...nah. I told him that I wasn't having symptoms of high blood pressure (I had a little bout with it about 5 years ago when my marriage was heading towards the creek without that proverbial paddle) and his all-too-quick response was, "Of course you don't have any symptoms. You never do till you fall over dead of a stroke." I'm betting he never gets friendliest employee there at IHS.
So after another uncomfortable 5 minutes of him judging me, he says he's sending me for an EKG, chest x-ray and labwork. At that point I was glad for two reasons: Glad that he was almost done with me and getting ready to go harass someone other unsuspecting soul. And also glad that I was at the indian clinic because all the crap he just ordered would've cost upwards of $2000 at a regular doctor's office.
He tells me to take my top off and he'll send in someone to do the EKG. Enter Nurse Ratchet. "Lie back and relax" she says as she jerks out the little foot rest at the end of the table. The sound of that alone send my blood pressure up another 20 points. So she then throws open my paper gown, exposing my entire chest. Okay, I'm not a real modest person, but come on, let's give a person a little shred of dignity. She goes to sticking little circles all over my chest and stomach. I was just focusing on a little dot in the ceiling overhead. Then she grabs 12 wires with aligator clips on the ends. Maybe it was an insane thought, but I just worried for the safety of my nipples at that point. No kidding! She was clipping those suckers on those paper circles quick as you please and I was certain that one was going to end up on the end of a nipple and then I was going to punch her square in the nose. Fortunately she hit her targets all 12 times and it was over in about a minute after it started. I was feeling pretty violated and was actually looking forward to the labwork and just wanted to put my bra back on. I was not happy with the whole way things were shaping up at that point. Okay, so on to x-ray where this kid who was not a day over 13 (Okay, so I exaggerate) tells me the machine is down and can I come back. Do I have a choice, geez. Then he tells me that Tuesday it'll still be broken, Wednesday they'll install new parts, Thursday will be regular scheduled maintenance so Friday will be the earliest they can do it. Fiiiiiiiiine. He then tells me to go back to Waiting and someone will call me to Lab. I get to Waiting, no sooner settle my rump in the chair than they call me to Lab. It's the same kid who just walked around the corner, picked up a different phone and paged me to Lab. AGHHHHHHHHH He tells me that it's a fasting test and asks when can I come back. I say "Tomorrow would be fine." Come on, here's the interactive part of today's blog, guess what his reply was.... go ahead guess.... Yep, they can't do it then. I suggested Thursday. Nope. I was really frustrated when, through gritted teeth, I said "What - about - Friday?" Bingo! Then it was back to Waiting at 5 minutes till 4. One hour in the clinic at this point. Which, I really shouldn't complain, because it used to be on a walk-in basis only and you just counted on a 4 hour minimum wait any time you walked through the doors. I settled into a chair, wishing I had brought a book....played a game of Snake on my cell phone till the battery started beeping....counted the ceiling tiles....watched a fly crawl all over the sign to the Pharmacy....mentally compiled a list of Christmas presents for the kids.... and Praise the Lord at 4:25 they called me to the Pharmacy to pick up my little bottle of steroid nose spray - which, by the way, gives me such a vicious immediate headache that I'm sure it's giving me a tumor.
I just can't be happy, can I?