Trying Not to be an Embarrassment to My Friends

Do you remember waaaay back when I posted about how bad of a patient I am?   It was on Jan 25th, (click here to read) when I told the pathetic tale of how I have the sorry honor of being the Worst Patient Ever at a certain ophthalmologist’s office, and how I was asked to leave a blood donation center, when I was already hooked up to the needle and dripping blood into the bag, because my (valid and insightful) questions about blood donation were freaking out the other donators.  Wimps.

Well, I’ve been wanting to move to a new doctor here in town.  Unfortunately, Barbetta just got a job as a Nurse Practitioner at the very office that I want to move to.  Grrrr.  The pressure is on.   And Barbetta knows it.  I’ll explain.

See, I can’t see Barbetta as my provider.  Boy10 didn’t understand why and I told him, “Well, what if you had an embarrassing condition, like a wart on your butt?”  (Yes, this is how we talk at home.  We just put on a good show in front of the rest of you, pretending that we’re elegant and refined.  But in the privacy of our own home, we also use the word “fart” and “stupid” quite often in conversation.)  “You wouldn’t want your friend to know you had a wart on your butt, would you?  That’s embarrassing.”

He said he’d rather have a friend know, who cares about you, rather than a stranger who might make fun of you.

I don’t agree.  So…can’t see Barbetta as a provider.  (And no, I don’t have a wart on my butt!)

Before the appointment with the other Nurse Practitioner in the office (Jen), Barbetta told me about Jen.  “Jen is great!  You’ll love her!”

And, unbeknownst to me, Barbetta told Jen, “Jackie’s great!  You’ll love her!  No weird medical conditions.”  (Well, unless you count that wart…no, no!  I’m kidding.  I have no warts.)

Today I went to see Jen and realized that I would have to Behave.  No freaking out about bleeding to death from getting my blood drawn, no passing out in the ophthalmologist’s office out of fear of going blind.  (Just read the January 25th post already.)

So, even though there were lots of times when I wanted to crack a joke, I didn’t.  I stayed calm and serious and was a Good Patient.  Very boring.  Very normal.

Tonight, I talked to Barbetta and she said, “Well?  What did you think of Jen?”  I told her that I liked Jen.  And Barbetta gave a sigh of relief. “Shew!  I like Jen and I like you, but what if the two of you thought each other was weird?!  That would be embarrassing.”

Barbetta, I’m sorry to inform you that….I am weird!  Hopefully, I can continue to keep it under wraps in front of your co-workers, but who knows?  Put me in a pressure filled medical situation and I’m bound to Fall Apart and be a Complete Embarrassment and you’ll be forced to look for a new job.

I am unhappy to report that Jen made me get a tetanus shot. I’ve been smug in the knowledge that I don’t have to get shots and when my sons have to get their shots I’ve been sympathetic, but firm, “Oh, it’s just a little shot.  You’ll be fine.  I’ll get you a slushie when it’s done.”

But when I had to get my tetanus shot, I broke out in a sweat and my mouth went dry and I felt a little dizzy.  It’s really warm in that office.   But I had to be brave in front of the boys, and, more importantly, in front of Barbetta’s coworkers.

So, I got the shot and it was nothing!  Nothing!  Barely any pain at all!  I made fun of the boys, “Guys!  That was it?  All the drama and having to buy you slushies after your shots for that?

But then, about 2 hours later, the pain set in.  The shot site hurts!  Ouch!  I can barely lift my sweet tea tonight, so you know it’s bad.  And no one even got me a slushie.  😦


Picture of the day.  Tonight is Haircut Night at Wendy’s house.  Now that Soup Day is over (good going Barbetta, getting a job and cancelling Soup Day forever), we have to come up with other ways to get our haircuts.  So, every six weeks, we have Haircut Night.

I’m here at haircut night right now, writing The Blog, because Darling Husband called to inform me that the internet is down at my house.  The internet people say it won’t be up until after midnight.  335 posts into this Daily Blog Challenge and this is my first brush with technical difficulties.  So, I’m staying late for Haircut Night, hogging Wendy’s laptop and composing The Blog.  And yes, she’s impressed with my mad typing skilz.

Valium and Lasers

Took The Boy to the doctor today for a lingering cough.

In order to take The Boy to the doctor, I had to dress up in my fake business clothes.   If you look like a stay at home mother they wonder why you stay at home.  Maybe you’re not smart enough to get a job.  You run the risk of being Talked Down To because you might not be smart enough to follow along.  Hence, the fake business clothes.  Business clothes make you look smarter.

So do glasses.

Before I had Lasik eye surgery I wore thick glasses.  Glasses make your eyes look beady and cunning.  People would take one look at those thick glasses and beady eyes and know how smart I was.  The bad haircuts helped, too.  Thick glasses, bad hair, and love of sci-fi.  Check, check, and check–she’s smart!

Incidentally, speaking of Lasik, I had the dubious honor of being known as the Worst Patient Ever when I had my Lasik surgery done.

Before the surgery, they give you a Valium.   Why?  First, because most people are pretty freaked out about lasers being shot into their eyes, and second, so that you can sleep after the surgery and rest your eyes.  From having lasers shot into them.

I have a sneaking suspicion that I had too much Valium.  (I was scrawny.)  My husband still talks with unrestrained glee about the loopy conversation we had before the surgery.

When it was time for the surgery…I got nervous.  And when I get nervous, I talk.

That’s it.  Just talk.

But for some reason it annoys the medical personnel.

For example there was the time when I was donating blood and they asked me to leave.  There I was, needle in arm, blood dripping into the bag, and I got a little nervous:

“Wow, the needle hurts.  Should it hurt?  Maybe it’s not in right and it’ll damage my veins and they’ll collapse.  What if I pass out and fall off the chair and the needle rips a long gash in my vein and blood is pouring out everywhere and you can’t stop the bleeding?  What if the bag pops open and blood is dribbling out and no one notices and you keep taking my blood until I’m bled dry.  What if…”

They removed the needle after 2 minutes of this, gave me a cookie and sent me away.

Honestly.  They took out the needle and sent me away before they had all the blood.

Same sort of thing happened with the Lasik.  I don’t remember what I said (remember the valium?) but after the surgery the doctor told my husband that I was his Worst Patient Ever and he almost cancelled the surgery.  I am not exaggerating.

The follow-up visit the next day was just as bad.  All I can assume is that coming down off my triple dose of Valium left me emotionally unstable.  There’s really no other explanation.  I’ve never felt as spacey and out of control as that day, before or since.

During the follow up visit, the doctor checked my eyes, didn’t say anything, and left the room.  Another doctor came in and checked my eyes, didn’t say anything, and turned to write something down.

Two doctors?  And they won’t speak to me?  In my unstable, un-Valiumed state, I was convinced I would be blind within the hour and they were trying to figure out how to gently break the news to me.  I couldn’t breathe and blacked out, right there in the chair.

I will never take valium again.

Star Trek Quotes of the Day:

Bones:  He’s dead, Jim.

Redshirt death toll:  None.

Movie watched while cleaning/cooking in the kitchen:  Vantage Point.