Cleolinda Jones (cleolinda) wrote,
Cleolinda Jones
cleolinda

  • Mood:
  • Music:

Things I did today

So. I'm completely ignoring the election coverage, because I figure I can feel like shit about it now or I can wait to feel like shit about it tomorrow, and as I already have a lot on the "feeling like shit" plate, I'm going with "tomorrow."

The doctor's appointment itself was... not of the fun. I hadn't seen this particular doctor in five years, and the last time I'd been, they were in some crazy high-rise building and my exam room had GIANT WINDOWS with open Venetian blinds. This seems like a counterintuitive location for an OB-GYN office at best. And even when you take into account that we were on, like, the 30th floor and there was a special one-way coating or somesuch shit on the glass... it doesn't really help the general anxiety you feel about taking off your clothes in front of strangers, does it?

So this time Dr. B--a woman, I might add--was located in a rabbit warren of rooms deep in the hospital, and I got there, and of course they didn't have my files anymore. I mean, five years had passed; I don't blame them. My mother went with me, so I'm sitting next to her filling out sixteen forms, and then I get to one that needs to be signed by a witness. My mother looks over and grins like she's all cool and says, "Can I get a witness!" So I said, "Can I get a what-what? Holla." As one does. And she just about died right there. So now she's been going around saying "Can I get a whoop-whoop [sic]!" all afternoon like she's got Tourette's or something. Bless.

So finally I get called back there. The nurse tells me, "Go in there and do a urine sample, then go to the lab to get a finger-stick, then go to room 6." I won't even go through the travails of getting a urine sample, except to say that you should really make the restroom stalls larger than two feet wide for this purpose, and that in the middle of this I hear "Cleolinda Jones, please report to room 6." (Of course, replace "Cleolinda Jones" with my real name, which you don't know. I don't really want some nurse to pick up a copy of Movies in Fifteen Minutes and be like, "I analyzed her pee!")  So I'm all panicking because I HAVE NOT HAD THE FINGER-STICK YET OH NOES, and I walk past the little gyn lab and there's no one there to stick my finger! And I don't know what to do! So I go hide in room 6. And then the nurse comes by and I'm all like, "Uh... I haven't had the finger-stick," so she sends me back to the lab, and I sit there for like fifteen minutes until someone says, "Uh, can I help you?," and I say, "No, I was just relaxing in the premium comfort of your world-class plastic chairs. YES, I NEED A FINGER-STICK PLZKTHNX." So we go through the whole "Anyone from lab, please report to lab" call and finally this woman comes in and she asks my (real) name and she's like, "Wow, I've had nothing but (real names) and (almost the same names) come in all day," except that on "in" she staples my finger, and I was so unprepared that I actually gave a savage yawp, and the name of that yawp was "OW!"

Back to room 6. I hope you guys out there, and by guys I literally mean "males," are reading this, because OB-GYN visits are the biggest runarounds on the planet. Respect, y'all. So I wait in room 6 for about twenty minutes, and finally Dr. B. comes in, and we talk about why I'm there, blah blah blee, and then she's like, "All right, we're going to make this as quick as possible. Take off all your clothes and put on those two paper sheets." Now, how I'm going to "put" them "on" when they don't have "fasteners" of any "kind" I don't know, but okay. So I'm thinking, she's waiting outside, this'll take 30 seconds. Remember: I'm a student. It wasn't too long ago that I was waking up ten minutes before class, and class was a five-minute walk away. Firemen dress slower than I do. So I'm "wearing" my paper sheets and another fifteen minutes pass and finally she comes back with the nurse. (In case you guys are wondering: they leave while you change because it could get creepy to have them just sit there and watch you. Which is also why two people have to be in the room with you once your clothes are off--to keep it from getting creepy. Because I have a female doctor, it took me a while to figure this out--I guess it makes more sense if you've got a male doctor. Not that the guy would do anything to you, The Hand That Rocks the Cradle notwithstanding, but it's to prevent you from having to worry about it.)

So we go through all that and it is not of the fun and then they leave again and the clothes go back on and I wait fifteen more minutes. I swear to God, these people need a damn efficiency expert. And if you think I'm exaggerating with the fifteen minutes here and twenty minutes there, my visit took an hour and a half. See? So. We talk about scheduling more lab work and scary things and you've read that entry. Blah.

And then we go vote at the library. I still feel kind of icky from the doctor visit but okay. It was pleasantly crowded, not really any lines, and the two guys in the O-Z line looked at my ID and gave me a ballot and no trouble at all. We have scantron-type sheets that you bubble in with a pen, and even though I hadn't heard about scantron sheets giving anyone any trouble, I remembered those stories about people trying to vote straight Democrat on the machines and their vote still coming up Bush/Cheney, so I filled all the bubbles out by hand. Just to be sure. Even though I knew Bush would win Alabama. Because voting is important. As are full, non-fragmented sentences.

And then I bit my lip three times while eating dinner.

Talked on phone to Squishy for half an hour, with Sister Girl hanging over my shoulder trying to tell me about her cooking class the whole time ("This is LONG DISTANCE, do you MIND?").

We had Mexican for dinner--taco sauce always makes me feel better, for some reason--and then I went to bed. (Marcus, I am still dying to get hold of the house salsa and the green tomatillo sauce from that burrito place we went to when Em and I were in New Orleans.)

I thought I might sleep through Veronica Mars, but then I woke up at 8:03 and couldn't not watch it. That's how good it is, people.

I'm still wading through all the comments to the YOU MUST VOTE entry (behave, y'all!) and the "My ovaries are wonky and demoralized" entry. It means a lot to me that y'all left all those comments for me on the latter entry--more than I really know how to say. (And I knew that PCOS was common--something like one out of every twenty women--but I didn't know half my friends list would have it.) So, in conclusion, y'all are awesome, and it was really great to have all those comments waiting for me when I woke up, and I don't really even know how to tell you how much.

Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 29 comments
Previous
← Ctrl ← Alt
Next
Ctrl → Alt →
Previous
← Ctrl ← Alt
Next
Ctrl → Alt →