My husband has been a little worried about me with reason. He has banned me from the evening news. Every time I watch it I feel like I need a drink and shower afterwards. Things seem so bleak.
My husband encouraged me to see my doctor. The truth is that I already had an appointment for my regular checkup (which was scheduled before I lost my job). I didn’t tell Bruce this because he likes to believe that I actually listen to him once in a while.
Last week I had my doctor’s appointment (it was amazing that I could get an appointment so soon…wink wink). She shares her office with several other doctors so the waiting room is fairly large. Probably double the size of a normal waiting room. Most the people there look kind of sick which made me feel a little guilty about being there while I was perfectly healthy. It also made me realize how gross those old magazines must be. There must be years of germs just hanging on to them waiting for someone like me to pick them up without care or trepidation. It didn’t really matter though, because I wasn’t that interested in reading about Fly Fishing or Nascar. The only People magazine available was from 5 years ago and yet it was still Angelina on the cover.
I finally got called in, got weighed, had my ears checked, my temperature taken, and my blood pressure taken. Everything my poor dog goes through at the vet…only they failed to check my teeth. Then I wait…and wait…and wait. Until I am no longer a patient I am an inpatient. HaHa…of course I’m sure my doctor has never heard that one. Right?
I remind myself that I don’t have anywhere else to go. So, I decide to lie down on the nice uncomfortable bed they supply in every room. Of course just as I start to drift off to sleep the doctor comes in.
She knocks on the door as she enters. What is the point of that? Even if I was in a compromising situation the knock/enter would not be sufficient to uncompromised the situation. But…I digress.
After giving me a rundown of my blood work and the standard “watch your cholesterol” speech, she asked me how things were going. She seemed to genuinely care.
But then she turned on me and reminded me that I was aging. She started to go on about “women your age”. Really you just lump us all together like that? She said a lot of women (my age) start to feel lost like they have no purpose in life anymore. How dare she! I don’t care that she was right, I was still pissed. She said that maybe I needed to take up a hobby. Then she went on to say “what a lot of women your age do is find a new identity. It seems to make them happy. Perhaps you should consider finding a new identity.” Really?
So I found a new identity...I took hers. Then I bought some shoes, a matching purse and a jet pack. (Not really, although it crossed my mind for an instant.)