So, yesterday I turned 35.
I was going to do a really cool math problem to make you work to figure out how old I was (like Michelle did on her blog on her bday), such as 70-50+20-5 and throw in some nth power and square roots, but I lost track of the problem half way through and thought, “I am too old for this crap.”
I am now in what is called the mid-thirties. And know what? Not quite so different from early thirties, except I am just that much closer to death than before.
Yes, folks, havin a hard time with the whole 35 thing. Especially when I realized that now, when you round me to the nearest decade, you get 40. If that ain’t enough to make me wanna go play in traffic, I don’t know what is.
But my day turned out great. Largely thanks to the hubster and Crumbsnatcher #1, who made me a large poster that read:
“Happy birthday from your husband and the (box of Willy Wonka
. We know it’s been a Rocky Road
trying to make $100 Grand
. If what we do (gummy
you, remember we love you U-No
)! Love all your Sugar Babies
(huge box that I ate all by myself
Crumbsnatcher #2 just smiled and drooled a lot. That was her contribution to my day.
Then later, I went to a salon, got a fab haircut and highlights, and gabbed with the stylist. FOUR hours without husband and kids, people. Count ‘em. Four. Woo-hoo! Thought I died and went to ThisIsWhatSinglePeopleGetToDo Heaven. All in all, it was a great day.In a Totally Unrelated Vein:
I was over at the Writeminded blog the other day and found Larissa’s post about her adventures with the military doctor she saw for a recent cold. I almost needed medical attention myself because I laughed so hard, I was sure I strained something. It reminded me of a doctor visit I had when I was about 14-16, somewhere in there. I had been having some stomach cramping, unrelated to our legacy from Eve, and my parents finally decided to try this new doctor to see if he could figure out what was wrong. My dad brought me because my mom was working that day. So there we sat, being questioned by Dr. Doofus.
DrD: How long have you been having pains?
Me: A few weeks now.
DrD: After meals? Before? Any certain times?
Me: Mainly in the afternoons. Not around meal times.
DrD: Does it burn when you urinate?
Me: No, sir, it does not.
DrD: (Stops writing. Looks up at me with very serious face and says sloooowly)
No, honey, what I am asking is does it hurt when you tee-tee?
My dad, who had been sitting in the corner of the room hoping that the Enterprise’s transporter would somehow lock on to his frequency and beam him the heck outta there, had to bow his head very quickly to keep from laughing in the doctor’s face. I, on the other hand, just wanted to knock the crap out of this guy. Instead I just simply smiled and said, “No, sir and it doesn’t burn when I urinate, either.”
I hate it when doctors treat those without initials behind their names like they are lower on the evolutionary scale. And I know of what I speak. I have worked in the medical field for over 17 years. First hospitals, then doctors’ offices, clinics, and insurance companies. I have had plenty of dealings with the healers of our time and while some have been the kindest, friendliest, most wonderful people I have ever met, most have been just a big fat pain in the butt. For which medical science has not yet developed a cure.
But the best of all time were my visits to my first ob-gyn. Warning
to any guys reading our blog, you may not want to continue…
After the tee-tee doctor, my mom decided I should probably start seeing an actual ob-gyn. I looked in the phone book and found the only female one in our area. Keep in mind I was only about 15 or so, and had nooo desire for some man to be checking me out in my private area. At our initial appointment with Dr. Woman, my mom accompanied me into the exam room for the interview portion. It went something like this:
DrW: So, you are having some stomach cramping problems? Hmm. Are you sexually active?
Me: No, ma’am.
DrW: Are you sure?
Me: Yes, ma’am, I am sure.
DrW: (looks very puzzled
) But you aren’t a virgin, are you?
Me: Yes, ma’am, I am a virgin.
DrW: (Loooong pause, checking my chart
) How old are you again?
DrW: And you say you’re a virgin?
Me: (Starting to get mad
) Yes, ma’am.She then shows my mom out of the room so she can examine me.
DrW: Is there anything you want to tell me without your mom in here?
Me: No, ma’am.
DrW: Are you a virgin?
Me: (had enough by this point
): Yes, ma’am. I haven’t had sex in the two minutes it took me to change my gown, so yep, still a virgin.She examines me, then calls my mom back in the room.
DrW: Well, Mrs. Mymommy, you will be happy to know you’re daughter wasn’t lying to you. She is a virgin.
My Mom: I knew that.
DrW: I just wanted you to know, because right before your daughter’s appointment, I delivered twins to a 15 year old girl, who had told her parents she was a virgin too.
My Mom: My daughter’s not like that. Please remember that in the future.
They then went on to discuss whatever it was my problem was, get the prescription and off we went.
Fast forward to about 6 years later. I am 21, engaged, and needing to get on birth control pills a few months before I get married so we don’t end up with a honeymoon baby. I go back to the same doctor because I do NOT want to have to find a new one and all I need are some bc pills, so how hard can this be?
DrW: (Reading my chart
) So, I saw you a few years back, huh?
Me: Yes, Ma’am.
DrW: And your reason for being here today is contraception?
Me: Yes, Ma’am. I am getting married in about 3 months and would like to get on birth control.
DrW: (lowers chart, glares at me)
What have you been using up to now?
DrW: You are having unprotected sex?
Me: No, ma’am. I am a virgin. I have had no need for birth control up until now.
DrW: (Laughs out loud)
You are a virgin
? You are a virgin
? How old are you?!
DrW: And you are a virgin?
Me: Yes, ma’am. I was when I came in here, and unless talking to you is having sex, then I still am. Could I please get a prescription?
DrW: (Gives me a bland, condescending smile
) How many children are there in your family?
) Three. I am the youngest.
DrW: You do know your parents had to have sex at least 3 times to have all of you, right?
Me: (supremely unbelievably pissed at this point
) Ma’am, I imagine they’ve had it quite a bit more than that, although it’s none of my business. I am a virgin. Not an idiot. I have a pretty good idea of how everything works. Can I please have my prescription now?
The rest of the appointment passed in a blur of angry, seething rage and I could not get out of there fast enough. When I told my mild-mannered fiancé what had happened, he was so mad he wanted to go open up a can of whoop-hiney all over her for treating me that way.
So do any of you have interesting medical stories to share? We could always use a good laugh.