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Writer's picturebetsineid

Good to Go, Maybe


Good Morning.

I had my annual checkup with the doctor yesterday. I always set it up for eight o'clock in the morning because I have to fast to get my labs done and I'm not one to fast any longer than need be.

The clinic is called Adult Medicine, a tactful of saying Old People Medicine. I have never seen anyone in the place under the age of 60. Three old guys are in the waiting room, all wearing shorts when they probably shouldn't be. It is summer but old guy legs aren't wonderful viewing. Neither are old lady anything which is why I'm covered from neck to ankle. I have spent extra time on my make up for reasons I cannot explain except maybe I will be younger and thinner, or at least appear so, if I have on eye shadow and mascara. The worst thing about a routine visit is getting weighed, but I like the digital read out scales better than the old ones where the nurse had to keep adjusting the little metal weights that made too much noise. Kindly disregard the person getting weighed the old weigh. She obviously goes to the Pediatric Clinic.


The next item is blood pressure. I didn't have my coffee because coffee raises blood pressure. A mocha would probably raise it even more because there's also caffeine in chocolate, but it doesn't matter because I can't have either when I'm fasting to get my labs done. I will stop at Starbucks afterward.

The next order of business is putting on a length of fabric that was invented by aliens. It has ties on it but it's supposed to

open to the back so the ties are useless because you can't tie them. The doctor knocks and enters just in time to help me up

the little steppie thing onto the table. She is younger by ten years than my youngest child but I figure she's up to date on stuff which is one reason why I selected her. She'll be around when I'm sailing off into the sunset and has the bedside manner of someone I'd like helping me do it. She spends thirty-five minutes with me, asks me a hundred questions, answers mine, and helps me off the table. Next year the clinic will be in a new building with tables that mechanically hoist an old person without steppie things.

Now I'm off to the lab. The Disney lady, previously referenced in a blog, is on vacation so I will be taken care of by a guy named Otto who tells me he has found an absolutely beautiful vein and asks me how many grandkids I have. This is because I am in the Adult Medicine clinic. Then I'm out the door and on my way to Starbucks.

"And a chocolate croissant," I tell the order person. "Yes, warmed up would be good."

And then I go home and wait to see what croissants and twice-baked potatoes and bacon cheeseburgers did to my cholesterol.

Best regards,

Elisabeth




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