New links are up at Linkateria for the first time in 2 days. Check 'em out.
Yippee kai yay, everybody, it's time to hear about Suebob's trip to the gynie doctor! Make some popcorn and gather round, kids.
First, have I told you about how much I loathe waiting at doctors offices? How very snarly and terrible I can become if forced to wait more than 15 minutes? How my old doctor had a note about what an awful person I was in my medical record? (How do I know that? Because I would be sitting in the exam room and the nurse would meander in, reading my chart. She would look down at the chart, then look up at me and I could always see it in her eyes. The "oh shit" look. The "here it comes" look. Her voice would be high and squeaky as she asked "And how are we today?" while waiting to have her head snapped off by the ogre.)
So you may be surprised to hear that today I waited one hour and 45 minutes PAST my original appointment time with nary a peep. Normally I would have turned into a benzene-spewing puff adder by then.
But I didn't get much sleep last night, so I was able to pass an only slightly uncomfortable hour sleeping in the exam room with my head down on a writing table, resting on my crossed arms a la third-grade-rainy-day-trapped-in-classroom naptime posture.
When my doc finally came in, I had slept about an hour and was too bleary to properly attack, so I decided to just let the whole thing drop. Anyway, I figured this was a person who was going to have her fingers up my hoo-ha in just moments and I thought I had better be polite to avoid any unfortunate incidents.
"So what are you doing for fun lately?" she asked to distract me, shortly before inserting various official-type objects in various places.
I took a deep breath and said that I had been blogging. Blogging is mainstream enough that everyone knows about blogging by now, right?
No, everyone has not heard of blogging.
"What's a blog?" she asked.
So I rambled on while she felt around for whatever they feel around for - missing squirrels or whatnot. I could see her face getting blanker and blanker.
I tried to figure a way to make her understand. This will get her, I thought
"From a medical standpoint, blogging is kind of interesting, because it gives people a way to talk about things that they never talk about otherwise - postpartum depression, breastfeeding, urinary incontinence..." I said.
I could see the skepticism and dismissiveness in her eyes.
"There's a lot of information out there on the internet, a lot of it is junk..."
Then I knew she didn't get it. That our opinions, our stories, our actual real-life experiences were reduced in her mind to the same category as herbal viagra spam and miracle cure websites.
Because what we say isn't approved by an esteemed body and it hasn't undergone peer review - it might as well not exist.
Here's what I have to say in return: hey, dinosaur. The old days are over, those times when people would come in and automatically bow to your white-coat authority.
You're smart, but you're not all-knowing. And I know you want to educate me, but listen up and let your patients educate you back. We have a lot to say. And we're not afraid to say it anymore.
And next time? Don't keep this blogger waiting for an hour and 45 minutes. Or else the ogre will have to snap someone's head off.
22 September 2006
20 September 2006
You think YOU'RE clumsy?
Top this: I'm sitting with my feet up, eating saffron pistachio ice cream out of the carton (hey, can I help it if we have a good Iranian grocery store?).
The ice cream is too hard, so when I jam my spoon in, chunks fly up in the air. The dog comes and hoovers up all the chunks.
Or so I think.
Because when I put my head down to continue blogging, the chunk that was resting on my head tumbles down the front of my white sweater, except now instead of being hard it is all nice and melty.
I would post photos but I pitched the sweater out already. The saffron stains may have come out, but it already had coffee stains on it from an earlier fiasco.
Top THAT!
The ice cream is too hard, so when I jam my spoon in, chunks fly up in the air. The dog comes and hoovers up all the chunks.
Or so I think.
Because when I put my head down to continue blogging, the chunk that was resting on my head tumbles down the front of my white sweater, except now instead of being hard it is all nice and melty.
I would post photos but I pitched the sweater out already. The saffron stains may have come out, but it already had coffee stains on it from an earlier fiasco.
Top THAT!
19 September 2006
What is "On Notice" for you?
Tell me yours! I need to know.
Thanks to everyone who has ever linked to Red Stapler. A few days ago I cracked the Technorati top 10,000. Woo hoo! I am a little fish swimming in a very big pond.
An anti-Bush admin triple play at Linkateria today.
18 September 2006
File under "TMI"
Enough thoughtful posts. Yikes. It seems like forever since I have done anything lighthearted and stupid. I guess I have been saving all the humor for Linkateria and getting all down and serious here.
Here's my question of the day: is it possible that I fart more than any other living human being? I think if there is some kind of Guinness Book of Records thing, I could apply. How would they monitor that? The process CAN'T be pleasant. But I bet I would win.
WTF is it? I don't think it is diet. My mom said that, even as a newborn in the hospital, I was a colossal farter. She said I made the nurses turn and look. Now THAT is talent, folks. As Rush Limbaugh would say, "talent on loan from God." Curiously, Rush and I have the same type of talent - spewing hot, unwanted air. Global warming? All my fault.
All I know is that it made my participation in World Day of Prayer on Thursday an exercise in clenchiness. It was my first time of sitting for a long time in a silent room of people...after having gone for the Mexican food at lunch...I was praying, all right, but I don't know if it did the world any good. I was praying for silence. My own. Thank you, God. You came through in a pinch.
Here's my question of the day: is it possible that I fart more than any other living human being? I think if there is some kind of Guinness Book of Records thing, I could apply. How would they monitor that? The process CAN'T be pleasant. But I bet I would win.
WTF is it? I don't think it is diet. My mom said that, even as a newborn in the hospital, I was a colossal farter. She said I made the nurses turn and look. Now THAT is talent, folks. As Rush Limbaugh would say, "talent on loan from God." Curiously, Rush and I have the same type of talent - spewing hot, unwanted air. Global warming? All my fault.
All I know is that it made my participation in World Day of Prayer on Thursday an exercise in clenchiness. It was my first time of sitting for a long time in a silent room of people...after having gone for the Mexican food at lunch...I was praying, all right, but I don't know if it did the world any good. I was praying for silence. My own. Thank you, God. You came through in a pinch.
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