Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Me And My Big Mouth

You know how I said, back in December, that I wasn't sick or in crisis? Yeah, not so much, apparently. All during this past fall, leading up to Christmas, I've been feeling really tired, or "punk", as the old man likes to say. I thought it was just stuff going on; my aunt's illness, the insanity that was the first weekend of the Christmas holidays, the comings and goings, that were just wearing me out, making me feel down. After all, depression is my old friend, someone who comes to visit a couple of times a year and gives me the excuse to binge-eat. But being depressed doesn't account for the blowfish that's passing as my neck these days, or the low-grade fever that puts roses in my cheeks like I'm a Victorian damsel wasting from consumption.

So I went to the doctor. Okay, so I actually went to the Doc-In-The-Box, because I haven't had a proper doctor in a few years, yearly healthcare switch-a-roos making it hard to keep the same one, and I admit it: I hate going to the doctor.

I sat around for two hours in the dry desert heat that passes as room temperature in that place, reading Bradbury's "Something Wicked This Way Comes" (an apt title for the situation, no?). The nurse came in and stuck me with the needle three times, trying to get blood. When she couldn't get more than a splash, she decided I was dehydrated, and they sent me home. Yeah, that was worth it. With my two now-bruised arms, a fever, a goiter on my neck, and the Care Bears starting their delirium dance in front of my eyes, I shakily drove home.

It's at this point I decided a real doctor might be a good call, because Jesus Christ! Who the hell has to stick you that many times and still can't get blood? And who wouldn't be dehydrated in a place that felt like high summer in the Sahara?

Unfortunately, a real doctor's office won't just let you come on in - you have to get an appointment, so now I'm biding my time until next week. This entails a great deal of lying around and being grumpy, because A) I'm a lousy patient. It makes me batsa to do nothing and there is no such animal as Rest in a house with three men, two of whom never shut up, B) Even though making my bed is enough to wear me out right now, I can still manuever housework and dinner faster than my well-meaning husband, who freaks out if he has to scramble eggs, and oh-my-god it took him an hour to clean up the kitchen after a dinner of stir-fry, for crying out loud! No lie - he actually wrote down how to boil eggs. Even the kids were all, "What the...?" at that one.

So I guess the moral of this story is: oh hell, I don't know - does it have to have a moral? Should you put any stock in the words of a woman who is currently hanging out with the Swear Bears? (Kiss My Ass Bear just put I Love You Bear in a half-nelson - never could stand those insipid little pastel bastards - punch him again, man!)

13 comments:

FairiesNest said...

WTF! I don't get this wait for an appointment when you're sick crap from doctors...is it soon? Maybe you should hit the emergency room? I hope you feel better asap Pookie! And tell those boys to get in line...don't make me pull this car over!

Csquaredplus3 said...

I'm sorry you have a goiter on your neck and are feeling lousy. Sounds serious.

Your husband and the "how to boil eggs" with the kids' reaction - FUNNY.

Keep us posted on your appointment and send the Swear Bears my way. Toddler Child needs to be put in a half-nelson.

Take care of yourself.

thailandchani said...

I certainly hope you find out what it is soon so that you can get better. That doesn't sound good!


~*

flutter said...

oh BABE!

Braja said...

Look i know this was meant to be serious (was it?) but this? "never could stand those insipid little pastel bastards - punch him again, man!" lol...thank you :)))

tysdaddy said...

Well, fuck.

Speaking of doctors, I've got an appointment in two hours, a follow-up regarding some weird liver function tests. I know my gall bladder works . . . I watched it fill up and then empty out the radioactive shit they pumped into my veins.

But, it snowed, a bunch, last night, and I really don't want to drive in to town. Methinks I'll call first and see if he made it in . . .

At least you had something good to read . . .

A Free Man said...

This post illustrates perfectly what's wrong with the American health care system. Here's hoping the new president can sort that hornets nest out.

Bekah said...

So sorry you feel crappy. Doctors... harumff, hope you find one that has a touch like an angel, the mind of a computer and the intuition of Gandolf. But mostly... I hope you feel better soon, you usually talk those boys under the table. Maybe the lesson to learn from all this is that it's time for the little tykes to learn how to cook. Let them start with lasagna before moving onto fondue and squash casserole.

bandick said...

And, along Bekah's line of thinking, may he also have the ass of a Greek god. It can't hurt.

Spray some Windex on that neck thing and check into a hotel so you can get some rest.

I'm on the next plane if you need me, pickle.

Gypsy said...

Sorry you're not feeling well. Although it does provide some comic relief that your husband needed notes on boiling. ;) and {hugs}

hele said...

oh. that listening for something you will never hear again. longing for the moments which we cannot recapture.

huuuge hug back. i miss my baby too. so much.

Arizaphale said...

Have you found out what the verdict is yet?
My new Doctor asked me to go get a bunch of tests done as a 'baseline'. Is he kidding? I HATE getting blood taken when I'm sick! Why would I do it when I'm well?? Also, I'd have to PAY for the pleasure!!! Bugger off mate.His secretary rang back to ask why I hadn't gone. I told her.

Tell 'em to eat noodles and get some rest kid.

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