Medication Nation

There is a particular time when all that you are is stripped into a gown, open in the back they tell you, and sit waiting for your annual check to make sure nothing has crawled in or is crawling out sort of adventure of your lady bits. I had the double pleasure this week of not only a hello to my ovaries but a shot in my ass which yes, today hurts in the way it generally nags when a needle is forcibly thrusted into your backside. I don't mean to imply my nurse threw the thing like a dart, in hopes of hitting her target, I mean more so that I felt my flesh having a conversation on which way to switch up for the least nerve upset.

Now comes the fun. My doc enters, cheery and in a pink shirt and tie. I appreciated that shirt without knowing why. I did however know that I like the man a good deal and have entrusted my uterus and other belongings to him for over ten years. Until he fucks up, he has my vote. He asked how I was and I said with no thought to anything "Well I suspect you'll tell me in a few minutes"

He replied with ... "ok right then". But he's not a shabby doctor so wanted to ask if I were really feeling well more or less or had concerns. He is always thorough about his patients, and not in a rushed, pissy way. I could have detained him if I wanted with a rag list of questions and he would not have left me in quandary. Pink shirt was sitting and perched all for ME at that time. And consider, this is a very well known obgyn, he is not bored and serving only my vagine, he is actually the exact thing you want from someone inspecting your bits.

"Lay back and scoot down please"

Scooted.

"Bit more."

Scoot scoot.

"Another inch please."

What the fuck you can't see it from there? Do you have little tyrannosaur arms that make you unable to reach more than 4 inches? No let's us just let me dangle my arse and genitals for a nice fine view of something I am never happy for anyone to see, especially before the sun has risen proper.

Not that mine is different from others, I just find it an odd profession to aspire towards. I shimmied lower. Ugh.

He nonchalantly did his work with bright blue gloves, and forgot who I was for a minute and said "Oh good no tumors or lumps" I reminded him that I am a hypochondriac and introducing words into my head might not be a great idea, he laughed softly. I hadn't even considered that I was full of lumps and cancer, jesus!

Checked my boobs, also lump free, so I can for a year say my girly goods are in check. As he said I could dress, he asked if I was ok in my head. He didn't use those words albeit, and I paused for a moment in wonder if I had acted out and didn't know. I am generally in the know when I behave poorly. Turns out, his nurse who I also adore and trust, snitched about my having a somewhat tear session over family problems. I didn't break down, but it's hard to be asked, and then try to lie.

I was offered brain pills. And ya know, fuck you not, each and every time I see a doctor I am offered brain meds. I simply must be doing something wonky, or they are on a monthly brain pill quota. I generally take the script, sometimes fill, sometimes don't. When I do fill I'm like a fucking hobbit, a pill hoarder if you will. I won't take the shit. I just like knowing it's there, hidden. No one except me knows the stash location. That is rather odd, to collect and never take. Maybe I'm a rainy day person, does that make me crazy? /she sings with below song

Below, for my being weird, then the hallow submission.








- DM