I have a new boyfriend. I had no choice but to kick Dr. B, my boyfriend for the past few years to the curb. I see now that I should have never crossed the doctor/mom of patient line, but it is too late. There were so many things wrong with this scenario, I can't even begin. Let me begin, and tell you:
a- Your boyfriend should never know your weight
When I came for my very own appointment, Nurse Betty (okay, I have no idea what her real name was, but this is my blog and I think it flows well. Plus it makes me think about the movie Nurse Betty, which really has nothing to do with anything at all, except that I generally like movies and when I sat here thinking of "Nurse.....Nurse.....Nurse Betty" just came out naturally) started walking me over to a scale in the hallway and said:
"Please step on it."
WTH? I came to see Doctor B, not to have her weigh me in some random hallway.
"Really, Nurse Betty- I don't want to?"
She was Asian and when she spoke it was with a heavy accent, and many grammatical infractions:
"What you mean- I DON'T WANT TO? This no party, girl. Take shoes off if you worried." She once-overs me, chuckles and rolls her eyes. Damn.
"I'm sorry, I won't." I AM HOLDING MY GROUND.
"If doctor prescribes medication, he needs know your weight. Want him to weigh you?"
"I'll chance it, Betty." I smile pleasantly, keeping ahold of my purse and shoes on my feet.
She rolls her eyes, back and forth in her head a few times, signaling the ladies at the check out area for attention. When she gets their attention she rolls her eyes a little more, writes in big bold letters PATIENT REFUSED TO GET WEIGHED on my chart, and tugs me along down the hall into a private room.
b- Your boyfriend should know your intimate details. Not his random sidekick.
She makes me sit down on that stupid bed with the stupid paper cover. I tell her that the way she has tightened it it will rip if I sit down.
"What you mean? It not rip. Sit."
I sit, it rips, she sighs. I roll my eyes at her this time to show my disapproval. I become encouraged by how easy my eyes roll, so I start rolling back and forth, just like she had. She looks at me until I stop:
"You done, Miss? You here for eye problem?" "
"Uh, no." I stop trying to twirl my head in 360 degrees.
"So, what you need?"
"Umm, I came to see Dr. B."
"Ok, he see you in moment. First, you need answer these questions."
"Umm, no."
"UMMM- NO?"
"I'll answer them to him."
"He won't come until I get him. When you finished answering."
I stare at her, she stares at me. She doesn't back down.
"What do you want to know?"
"Why you here."
"I have a headache."
"You HAVE A HEADACHE."
"Yes."
She stares. I stare. She stares some more. SHE CAVES!!!!
"OK, I get doctor."
She walks out. I run over to the sink, look in the mirror, adjust my hair, fix my makeup. Look for some paper to scrub my teeth. Dr. B walks in. All business. Frowning at the papers in his hands. He looks at me.
"Please sit down."
I put the tongue depressors back in the jar, pick most of the Q-tips back up, try stuffing the tissues back in the box, close the cabinet doors.
"This is ridiculous."
He looks up from his file. WTH? This is not working the way I had envisioned. Send Betty out already. I glance over at her, she has a nice little, wicked smile on her face.
"You have a chronic headache? Maybe you have an ear infection."
He rolls closer on his little roller stool and leans in. I close my eyes and wait. When nothing happens I open again. He sits in front of me, one eye brow raised, little light in his hand. He turns my head, pulls me by the ear, and starts poking around.
"Um, no......No.....Nothing here....Nope. ....For sure not...."
After a few minutes he looks at me, shakes his head, and says-THIS IS NO JOKE. THIS IS WHAT HE SAID:
"Maybe you got hit by a baseball and didn't notice."
I stare at him, completely incredulous. "Wh....WHAT?"
"Well, maybe you got hit by a baseball. You have kids. One plays baseball. Maybe you got hit. And now it hurts."
Does he really think I would not REMEMBER getting hit by a baseball? Wouldn't I be INTELLECTUALLY COMPROMISED at this point. And then it dawns on me. That is exactly what he thinks.
WHAT? I may be slightly weird, I might have gone overboard with my fantasy love life but ...really? I start packing up, pissed. He's not done. The ultimate punishment:
"I also think you might have thyroid problems. Kathy will come draw some blood." Betty giggles, she scribbles something in the chart. She did that, didn't she. She totally made shit up in my chart.
And Kathy ended up being the mom of one of the moms on the baseball team. "Wow, Iraina, you are gussied up." And as I started to flip her off she strapped my arm down and started the bloodletting. I started grinding my teeth, cursing under my breath. Nurse Betty waved at me on the way out, I pretended to be blind and felt my way along the wall to the outside.
c- Don't accept defeat. Move on. Gracefully
To no big surprise the test results ended up negative. I contemplated for a while. I remembered Dr. W from 12 years ago. Haven't seen him since. He was handsome, grey temples, air of superiority. I didn't appreciate that when I was in my twenties. Yay! he still practices. Boo! on Lake Mead and Buffalo, which is about 45 minutes away from my house. Whatever, he should be glad that I was willing to return and take him back. I went. The nurse asked if I was going out afterwards. W T H people? Do you expect sweats? So, big deal, I wear sequins and sparkly makeup during the day. And he came in, and he is elderly now. Shoot. Little hair left, hunched over, spectacles. Maybe a touch of senility.
I think this will work just fine. I flash him my best smile.
