take two of these and call me in the morning

The note on the calender said; doctors appointment tomorrow. Oh boy. One of the biggest thrills of my life is the regular visit to my doctors office. I find that the more appointments that I keep, the less that I am inclined to want to go back. I build up some kind of anxiety, that just won't go away. I realize that the whole deal is deigned around keeping me healthy, but it plays hell on my nerves.

I think that it all starts off in the waiting area. After walking up to the receptionist and getting that cold stare from her and the robot-like commands of; “I need your insurance card and ID.” Then the line that drives me crazy; “Have a seat, someone will be with you shortly.” Right...I will spend an eternity out here, thumbing through back issue of Cosmo, looking at the clock and trying to sit comfortably in a chair that is one size too small. I don't understand the concept. Why not leave some playing cards out or have a pool table in the room? Anything but magazines. Right? You know...you have all been there.

When they do call you back, you have to wade through the evil stares of the people that are still waiting and you know that they are cussing at you with their thoughts. It's kind of creepy. Normally I have to go to the lab first, to visit my very best friend; the phlebotomist. The guy with the needles. The blood-letter. I'm a big guy, but my Kryptonite is a hypodermic needle. Want to watch me turn instantly into a three year old? Follow me in there!

After that mind numbing experience, the nurse will lead me to the exam room and have me step up on the scales, but not before I unload; cell phone, keys, wallet and all of the other things that might make the scale cringe. Then the blood pressure and temperature readings. “Your temperature is good but your pressure is a bit high.” she tells me.

“No shit? I mean...really?” Who would of thought that?

My doctor is a sweet lady. She smiles a lot and asks me how have I been since I last saw her, but inside I get that horrible feeling that she is hiding something from me. I don't know why this is. Call it paranoia. Every time that I go there, she pulls up my file on her lap top and asks me the same questions as she did the last time that I saw her. The list is as follows:

1. Have you been taking all of your meds?

2. How has your appetite been?

3. Do you have any tingling or numbness in your feet?

4. Have you been sleeping well?

5. How has your energy level been?

6. Any new aches or pains?

As I reply to these questions, she is continually typing something into my file. Shaking her head a bit as I try to answer. I don't think that she believes me. “We are going to have to up your blood pressure med. You are a bit high today,” she says.

I'm thinking: look; your office is on the third floor, your lab tech just jabbed a hole in my arm and I'm pretty certain that I have something that you are not telling me about. Sure my pressure is a bit high. Sometimes I think that I am her Guinea Pig. “Just how many pills can I get this guy to swallow?” {followed by an evil laugh}

But, the worst thing; the bill is even more frightening. However, that is another story.