The New Doctor
Tue., September 23, 03:34 PM
A day like yesterday just wears me out. It shouldn’t, really, but as usual, there was a combination of things to bother me.
I had a noon appointment with an arthritis doctor – makes more sense to me than running off to a surgeon – but they asked me to come earlier to do paperwork. The amount of paperwork they had would have been insane, except that I had a “cheat sheet.” The stuff about my referring doctor and my insurance were easy, and I had the co-pay check all made out. There were also, however, six or seven pages of medical history. Fortunately, I was able to mark many of the questions “see attached.” It is well worth your time to set up your own medical history. What was funnier was that, as the doctor made notes, she used my own setup more than her own.
Her verdict? Don’t know. The X-rays of my back show signs of osteoporosis, which we already know I have, but nothing that would cause the pain I’ve been experiencing. So…get another X-ray. Another kind of blood test. It wouldn’t hurt to try taking a glucosamine-condroitin preparation. And, basically, plan on investing in more of those special pillows.
Well, what was hard about that? Oh, that was the easy part. Getting dressed was hard. I try to wear something light and roomy, something that’s easy to get in and out of, when I go to the doctor. On the other hand, my sense of vanity being what it is, I also want to look coordinated. So I decided on a shorts set that I’ve enjoyed for a long time, along with a sweater I knitted many years ago that just happens to look good with it. When I started to collect my outfit yesterday morning, I discovered I had forgotten to wash the shirt. I decided to do a wash after I had my shower; if it couldn’t finish, I could wear another blouse… Except that now I wanted this one. (Compulsive? Me? That will be a whole ’nother entry.) Did the wash, put the stuff in the dryer. I figured, y’know, I could take out the shirt before the whole load was dry, and I did. It was a little damp on one side, but I could use the blow dryer on it.
Sure I could! What the h*** happened to my hair dryer? It used to be safe in my own room, but I had moved it to the kitchen so that it would be available for both of us. I decided I will just murder U.D. and put the shirt on damp. (It was dry by the time I had to take it off.)
But the day was going to be iffy for me because the quickest way to get there was to take the highway, and I’d really rather not. The bridge over the Quinnipiac River – officially called the Pearl Harbor Memorial Bridge, which makes it unofficially the Pearl Jam – is not quite so busy at 11 a.m., but I still dislike it. I got to the right street, passed my destination and passed it again on the way back. The directions were accurate, as far as they went; I just didn’t know that the complex would be hidden behind the Pasta Fair.
I decided to take Route 1 on my way back. I don’t mind getting lost when I don’t have a time constraint, and it’s a lot easier to find my way if I’m not going sixty miles an hour. I saw the sign for Walmart – I don’t think I’ve ever driven there myself – and took what looked like the correct turn. And the sign was gone. And I drove. And I drove. And just when I was certain I had made another mistake and would have to turn around, there it was. I’m not fond of that store; it’s full of a lot of things I don’t need and don’t want. It does, however, have Husband’s size underwear. And there is the convenience of being able to use my Sam’s credit card.
So I went to the doctor, I went to the store, I got in my walk and went home. By suppertime I was exhausted. And tomorrow I go back to the lab.
And what appropriate title did I take with me to the doctor's? The Lovely Bones.
