Everyday Dose Of Reality
This morning I decided I needed to head to the doctor and get a handle on this bubble of snot I have been living in. Typically I go to the doctor for prenatal visits, and for the big reveal of the tenant living in my stomach finally showing their face.
I have to say it was kind of strange and liberating sitting upright on a table for a change. Stalin never marched in tossing a gown at me saying, “put that on, get on the table and spread’em”. Very refreshing. Normally at a prenatal visit you are tortured with a weigh in. Much like a fishing tournament, the lady with you calls out a digital number blinking in front of you. As you watch that number blink, you swear you can feel the earth tilt on its axis. Your eyes start shifting as you scan the halls for men in NASA jackets to seize you. Moving you to a central yet remote location until the earth realigns itself again on its proper axis. Somewhere down the hall in a room, sits a table full of ladies with names and numbers laid out on chart pages, bingo style. One slams her fist to the table, “damn, I was so sure she would hit 257 this week. B64, B64.”
Today they didn’t even weigh me. Simply ushered me into a room, took some vitals and asked me what was wrong. I explained how I felt like a Jack Sparrow look-a-like walking wobbly everywhere I go. This was much easier once I narrowed down which lady of the blurred 3 was really talking to me. The pressure in my head has become so bad, not only do my jaw and teeth hurt, when I cough I put my hands over my eyes. I swear it feels like they will pop out and roll across the floor. I’ll be so screwed if that happens, because Tasha collects tennis balls. Also there is something amiss with my left ear. The whistling must stop! It is plugged completely, yet somehow some noise is getting in. When I talk to the kids I hear everything I say and they say, but like 15 times echoing. I heard a voice yesterday I could not identify, something about “eat the chocolate”. Who am I to argue I ate the damn chocolate. Two drug prescriptions later, Jack Sparrow swayed to the truck.
Still amazes me. I went to the hospital, met a doctor and Macgyver and I left alone. No smallish being swaddled in a blanket or wearing the look of shock because someone didn’t pass the pregnancy test…. again. Yo ho it’s a pirates life for me, more rum!