Why I Shouldn’t Be Allowed to Speak to Grown Ups, Part 592

Last Friday my day consisted of my annual pelvic exam, an eye exam, and dinner with my in-laws.  My level of dread was in that order.  I survived all three, and while the pelvic was the least concerning in some ways (I’ve been to this doctor four times this year alone in the wake of CervixPalooza 2011), I couldn’t help but bring my own special brand of socially retarded with a splash of verbal incontinence to the table.

Me: “Hey, I saw you at the Elvis Costello show.  Did you have fun?”

Doctor: “Yes, I did.  Did you?  You should have said hello.”

Me: “Yeah, we had fun.  I didn’t think you’d recognize me since I had pants on.”

Doctor: *Blank Stare*

A few minutes later:

Doctor: “You look good.  Really good!”

Me: “Thanks!”

Doctor: “So, how’s your baby?  He’s about a year now, right?”

Me: “What?  No.  NonononononoNO.  No baby.  I don’t have a baby.”

Doctor: <Glances at chart> “I am so sorry.  I think I mixed you up with my next appointment – ”

Me: “Wait, when you said I look good, did you mean I look regular-good, or just good for someone who had a baby?”

Doctor: “Look, there’s no good answer so let’s start over.”

A few minutes later:

Doctor: “So you’ve been married two years, you’re almost 35…what are you waiting for?  Don’t you want a baby?”

Me: “Yeah, of course, but you JUST gave me the green light that I’m healed and I don’t know…life is complicated.  I’m not terribly maternal and who knows if I’d be any good at this.

Doctor: “You will be fine.  Hormones kick in and you’ll take wonderful care of your baby.”

Me: “I know I’ll be good at the regular stuff.  I mean, I can keep a person alive.  I’m not a damn idiot.”

Doctor: “Keeping the child alive is a good start.  Take it from there and maybe, uh, let your husband take care of the other stuff.”

And the grand finale:

Doctor: “Your ovaries are fine, your uterus tilts back slightly, go ahead and get dressed and we’ll see you in six months or sooner if you’re pregnant.”

Me: “Whoa, back up.  What about my uterus tilting?  What’s the deal with that?”

Doctor: “Don’t stress about it.  You’re a variation on normal.”

Me: “Not the first time I’ve heard that.  Ha!”

Doctor: *Blank stare*

Me: “Yeah, I’m gonna put my pants on now. Have a good Thanksgiving!”

Advertisements

You Take the Good, You Take the Bad

At the risk of ripping off the brilliant Jive Turkey, here is a little “cheers and jeers” that reflects the state of my life currently.  I know it would probably be better to simply focus on the good – because the good is very good – but if I don’t get some shit off my chest I may go bonkers.  Don’t worry, I’ll get the bad out of the way first so that I leave you, Gentle Reader, with a warm, fuzzy feeling.  That feeling is intensified after a few cocktails.

Fuck This Shit!:

  • I get that my workspace at the office is not technically “mine” but if I come in on a Monday to find the dried remnants of coffee spilled all over my desk or my personal stuff broken I am going to choke a bitch.   Several months ago I decided to pretty up my dull desk with a whopping two photos and some cute containers for pens and other sundry office drone items and last night I packed it all up and took it home.  If shit’s getting fucked up, let it be their shit, right?  Also: huge apology to Ed for the small heart attack I gave him when I came home with my desk packed up.  No, I did not quit in a Jerry Maguire blaze of glory, or like that flight attendant who stole two beers and slid down an inflatable raft, Sweetie!  Please start breathing again!
  • Basically, work is a giant wretched bitch at the moment and I can feel it affecting my health and general happiness so there are going to be some changes.
  • I have to go to the eye doctor in order to get my prescription for my contacts refilled.  Eye exams are very high on my list of Shit That Causes Massive Anxiety, so I begged the nice lady to let me skip an exam, promising I would call if I had any problems or thought I might have glaucoma or whatever but no dice.   To make matters worse my doctor retired and I have to see someone new and go through my whole routine of “please don’t come at me too fast” and “don’t count before you puff the air at me because I WILL flinch and/or run out of here” so that should be fun. 

Fuck Yeah!:

  • It’s Election Day!  Per tradition, we are going to vote after work as a family (well, just me and Ed since my parents vote at a different polling place) and then we shall sit nervously in front of the TV awaiting results.
  • We’re seeing BB King tomorrow night, which should be fabulous.  Small venue, good music, and a mid-week date with Ed?  YES PLEASE.
  • As of Friday morning we will be Bay Area-bound for a weekend of family fun.  Friday night’s plans include a hot date with Bubba and Ed to see Wreck It Ralph (which I maintain sounds porn-ish), and Saturday will be a day in the life of suburban parents: Saturday morning soccer, a birthday party, and then a soccer team party.  This could either convince us that we’re ready for kids or send us screaming towards a vasectomy clinic.  I’m packing a flask, obviously. 
  • It’s decorative gourd season motherfuckers and my table has never looked more festive. 
  • While it is unseasonably warm for November – even by California standards – the evenings are cool and I love having the windows open and lighting candles and curling up with a bottle glass of red wine each night. 

See?  I told you my glass is definitely more than half full (of wine, probably).  Need to vent or celebrate?  Have at it in the comments!