About Me, Adulting

I’d Like to Super-Size my Doctor’s Visit Please

So – in theme with my highly academic entry subjects this week, I am going to tell you a little story from my birthday this past summer. I took E to Georgia the weekend before my birthday to see his dad and his aunt. His aunt had a softball tourney and we decided to camp out that night. However – the first campground we stopped at kinda made me feel like I was about to play the lead in some 1980s horror flick. As we were looking around, and I was saying “um, yeah – I haved camped ALL my life, ALL over this country, and this place? creeps me out” out of NOWHERE, this freakin’ Hornet/Wasp/Dragon/Satanic Being type creature stung the CRAP out of me. I yelled dirty words left and right and we got the hell out of there, fearing that the creature WAS a servant of Satan sent to destroy be because I was bitching about their fortress.

Fast forward to Tuesday, my birthday that week. My arm was swollen, my elbow hurt (the sting was closer to my wrist), and my forearm felt like it was on fire.

I finally bit the bullet and went to a doc-n-a-box clinic to get it looked at. My hatred of all things medical is so strong it causes severe anxiety attacks. One attack was so bad it caused me the Beautifully Humiliating Emotional Breakdown of 2002 in my DENTIST’s office. So – needless to say – I did NOT want to go to the doctor, as I’m used to visiting the same family physicians back home and I was very uncomfortable with it being a doctor I had never met. (And after this visit? No wonder I have never gone back). Donnie though, sick of my whining and moaning, demanded I do so. Keep in mind, this is my BIRTHDAY. I did not WANT to go to the doctor ever, much less my birthday. However, since my arm was getting worse, and I am right handed, I decided to go get it looked at. This is the conversation POST exam.

Doctor: So, we’ll give you a steroid shot and a shot of an antibiotic. Have you ever Amoxicilin?

Me: I dont think so, I’ve only been prescribed antibiotics once in my life and I dont think I took them.

Doctor: Even when you were a kid? The medicine that tasted like bubblegum?

Me: Uh, I didnt really go to the doctor if I was sick, as a child. Yeah – we’ll save THAT issue for anther blog entry, okay?

Doctor: ???

Me: Continue.

Doctor: Well, I’ll give you a prescription of antibiotic instead of a shot, incase you are allergic, the reaction wont actually kill you.

Me: Thanks. Thats sweet.

Doctor: We’ll still give you the steroid shot (I’d find out later, in my ASS) though.

Me: Okay, whatever.

Doctor: If your arm does not regain function again, come back here and see me.

Me: MmHmm

Doctor: Do you have any moles that need to be removed?

Me: What? Uh. WHAT?

Doctor: We do that here, we burn off moles, do you have any? We can take care of it quickly before you leave.

Me: Um. No. Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind though, next time, I guess, um, yeah, thats definitely a NO, though. (I had to TRY to be polite, because I KNEW someone was going to be sticking a needle in me in the next 10 minutes)

Doctor: When was your last papsmear?

Me: Excuse me??? What???

Doctor: We do that too, want me to give you one RIGHT NOW?

Me: Oh HELL No! Uh, thanks though. I mean, uh, I prefer, you know, and OB/GYN for that kind of thing, you know, uh – thanks though.

Doctor: Okay, I’ll send the nurse in to give you your steroid shot. You sure no moles or paps?

Me: NO. Thank. You. Though. Please. Just. Let. Me. Get. The. Eff. Out. Of. Here.

Doctor: Okay, remember, come back if your sting gets worse.

Me: Never. Ever. Ever Again. I’ll die first, thanks though.

Doctor: No problem.
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