Tuesday morning, I got up and forced myself to shower and go to the doctor. We have a walk-in within two blocks of our home and i went and asked for help filling out the forms. The woman was nice and helped me and i dealt with the inevitable feelings of frustration at having to answer private questions in a room full of people. i focused on getting the antibiotic i clearly needed and getting better after weeks of being sick.
While waiting, an ad and interview came on for “My Big Fat Fabulous Life,” and i cringed as the other waiting patients made remarks about “keeping the girl out of the kitchen.” Sigh. There was laughter about how big she is, despite a glance around the room informing me that i wasn’t the only curvy girl in the room. Evidently, the other women felt comfortable joining in the fat shaming.
It was a precursor to me being taken back to be weighed and have my weight announced in a room full of people. i wanted to crawl into a hole in the floor. i also always feel uncomfortable with the family history questions. As both of my parents were adopted, i literally don’t know anything. i don’t even know the names of my biological grandparents on both sides. It makes me feel weird, trying to explain the black hole that is my lineage.
Then, the doctor, pointed out my weight as a topic of discussion when what i wanted her to do was get her little pad and write down the antibiotic i need. She said she understood why i had been too sick but needed to resume yoga, walking, and suggested i purchase a nice little exercise bike to use at home. Well, how thoughtful.
In the lab room, while a tech was trying to find a good vein, they discussed patient care. One doctor noted that she had an uncle who did plastic surgery and i blurted out, “Does he do liposuction and tummy tucks?” Indeed, he does, for cash only. i felt dejected. Especially because when i tried to discuss with my doctor my fibromyalgia, noting the conservative approach my pain management doctor uses with me, and saying the auto-immune disease was “evil” the doctor actually asked me, “why would you say that?”
Um. Because it’s evil. Yeah.
i figure if the doctors want me biking in my livingroom, which she helpfully pantomimed for me, then they should jolly well get me out of pain. The anxiety that comes from being unable to predict when and were i will suddenly go from a level six pain (my best days) to a 10 is nerve wracking. When your bones literally hurt, you just don’t care about yoga. i need to care, and i get that. i do. It just seems like everything is a Herculean effort right now. i tried to point out that just mopping the floors was something that required a break right now.
Anyhow, i made it through my first doctor without Sir Raven. For me, this is a pretty big deal. And the antibiotic is helping tons, for which i am truly thankful. Sir Raven bought me some utterly disgusting saline nasal stuff, which i won’t explain here. i may have told her that this is child abuse.
i was exhausted that night but stayed up so Sir Raven could fall asleep first. Evidently, i snore when i have a sinus infection. Apparently, it sounds like something loud enough to wake the dead. So, anyhow, i politely sat awake in the livingroom waiting for Sir Raven to sleep and hit her second REM cycle before i went to bed an hour or two later. There was a banging on the door, which i ignored the first time. Then the “BAM, BAM” happened again and i woke Sir Raven up. She Masterfully went out to see what was going on. i asked if i needed to grab Shango and put him out on the fire escape or something. No fire. i listened for her breathing to change and eventually fell back asleep again, after five or so more times of door banging.
Poor Sir Raven was left awake to listen to me sleep “as if i was safely in the arms of Jesus” and Mr. Swearing Door Banger.
Last night, she said that she heard the banging the first go round from her slumber but she reached over to make sure i was in the bed and figured as long as we were together, she didn’t really care what else was going on.
i teased her that when she said “my relationship can be taken only out of my cold, dead hands!” she apparently meant that literally. Since if we burned to death and the guy was banging to wake us up, she was okay with that, as long as her slave was next to her side. She laughed but said that was pretty true.
We are beyond “til death do us part.” After many lifetimes do us part? maybe?? 😛
i need to get to work. Lots and lots and lots of homework to get caught up on. i would prefer to not be doing it on a sore ass and Sir Raven had a *tone* the other day. It was a i-am-out-of-patience-and-you-are-getting-the-strap-soon tone.
So. Yeah. Work time. She keeps asking why i have no focus. i keep not knowing. i’m thinking of asking the doctor for some add meds-seriously. Maybe it will cut through the fog??