A Foray to the Doctor's Office

I mentioned yesterday that I managed to have my doctor's office receptionist perceive me as a bassist.

Well, I found out what the wages of bassism are today…a nice, long wait.

I show up the doctor's office early for my 10:15 appointment. About 15 minutes later, I am shown into a small exam room after having stopped at the dreaded scale. I weigh MORE than last time. Not much more, but more. However, this is not so bad. The reason it's not so bad is that my weight had probably gone up further than that and is now coming down, but there's no way to know because the only time I'm weighed is at the doctor's office.

So after I find out that I've become a little fatter, it's off to the exam room to chat about why I'm there and to wait. And wait. And wait. I wait so much that I am able to get about 5 rounds of a new doily finished.

The doctor shows up. She's awesome. I like her immediately and there is no problem communicating. She's muy thorough. And responsive. The last time I mentioned a breathing problem to a doctor was when I was seeing a certain bariatrics doctor in town whom we'll Dr. Persnickety. Dr. Persnickety (and I can think of many words that start with P which would also be a good name for him…use your imagination) was just that, persnickety, especially if you didn't want to buy protein bars from his office and kept gaining instead of losing weight. And he treated me like I was a total hypochondriac when I mentioned my breathing problems. He barely investigated them at all. Jerk face.

I like my current doctor much better. We'll call him Dr. Friendly. He treats me like a human being instead of looking at me like I’m just another poor lost fat soul who just needs to lose weight in order to turn into a productive humanoid.

Well, long story short, I walk out of the doctor's office 2.3 hours, 1 breathing treatment, 1 chest xray, 1 pulse-ox test, 7 rounds of doily, and 4 prescriptions later.

And imagine this -- my breathing was better after the breathing treatment! Take that, Dr. Persnickety!

I arrive back at work from my 10:15 appointment at about 1pm. Yippy. Skippy. I hate having missed THAT MUCH work. It looks bad. I feel like Napoleon saw it or Twiggy told him and he's looking at me funny.

Could just be my paranoia though. Probably is.

But I can't tell you how much better it feels not to have to struggle for a deep breath. Dr. R. thinks it's allergies and I'm sure she's right. I'm so glad I didn't cancel that appointment, though I was mightily tempted, having been told by Ex many times that I am just a hypochondriac and that there's nothing wrong with me (though I have to admit that he was right at times…but since OA that has gone down dramatically).