Skip to main content

Yipee It's time for the physical! (said no one ever!)

Raise your hand if you're ever excited for your annual physical?

 Anyone?

 Anyone?

 Didn't think so.

 I think it's a particularly unpleasant experience for women. I know men aren't all that thrilled to turn their head and cough during their exam and I have heard the prostrate exam might involve a little more than coughing, but trust me guys you get away easy.

 I think the dread of the exam has heightened for me through the years. No I take that back - it's not something I merely think it's something I know I dread! And it starts with the first task after the nurse calls your name - the scale. And it's not a little scale, I mean it's got neon flashing lights displaying what it says is your weight. And it never matches the number to the scale at home or the number I actually want to see! And then the nurse, who you just know is trying not to laugh or comment, walks you to the examination room where the second most dreaded part of the exam is about to begin. No, not the actual exam - but the donning of the paper 'gown' that I swear is getting smaller. Probably trying to preserve the number of trees felled for the benefit of modesty and just plain dignity. Ironic that the 'gowns' have gotten smaller as the number that the scale reads is larger. Huh, wonder it there's a correlation? Nah, probably not. Though the 'gown' is smaller, at least it's pink and we all know how much better we all feel about that - right?

 I won't even discuss the actual exam, because why describe misery when your blog is entitled "The Glass if Half Full" and you're known for your Pollyanna-like ability to see the positive in most every situation. Well, I can't really find a positive in the actual degradation of the exam - so I will just skip it. Because that makes it all better! Ha!

 The exam ends with promises to make the scale say a lower number next year (through effort of some sort on my part not the scale's) and to take care of myself because no one else will. And then there are referrals to make for more appointments that promise great things like getting the girls squished between two glass plates while holding on to the torture device at awkward angles (again wearing a pretty pink gown) and trying not to fall while having seemingly normal conversations with some woman you hope to never run into while shopping or at church or out to dinner with the husband. Then for me there is usually another appointment a month or two later to have the girls hang low while laying at another awkward angle inside a loud tube. Though for the latter appointment, the MRI, they don't usually give you a pretty paper gown - but some drab (though cloth) hospital gown. 

 So, I say, bring it on! I know what to expect. Only this year, I'll trick that mean scale and hold my breath - 'cuz that will definitely make the flashing neon letter a smaller more accurate one. Right?

Comments

Post a Comment

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling

I put my pride aside and got my ass off the grass and into the wheelchair. {I spent a couple minutes deciding whether to put an exclamation mark after that declaration or to put the period after that statement. I think the period better suits my mood about getting said ass into the wheelchair!} On July 4, Saugatuck has a wonderfully unique parade that includes quirky participants like the artsy-fartsy campers at OxBow art colony and the LGBT members of a local foundation along with the more traditional participants like Girl Scouts, fire trucks, and local politicians. It had been a couple years since I had been to the parade, this year, though, my Mom and sister were in town and I wanted to take them. So we loaded up in the van, including Kerri's wheelchair and my own. Once we parked, John asked if I wanted to use my chair and I initially balked but then remembered that it can be a long, hot parade and it might be better to have a place to sit. So, I acquiesced and took the cha...
2 comments
Read more

Down 24

My life has been a lot like this roller coaster. Not just ups and downs, but several twists and turns. Sometimes I am whooping for joy, hands in the air ready for the what lies ahead while at other times I can see a loop or drop coming and the dread is palatable, the nausea is real. And also like a roller coaster is my weight. I've never been svelte but I have been within the BMI range. I have also been overweight and more recently the scale put me in the obese category. And that should have scared me into action but instead I just made excuses or rationalizations like "It's because I use a wheelchair to get around," or "I'm sure once X happens I'll lose that weight," or (my favorite) "It's just water weight/constipation". (Like all I needed was one really good poop and I'd be at my target weight! No plunger in the world could have worked! Like comedian Ron White says 'Just one really good dump from a new pant si...
Post a Comment
Read more

Wally is on weight watchers

If you've read my blog in the past or know me from the 'real world', you know about my pup Wally. Well, this 105 pound lap dog is now on a diet. Yep, one too many loaves of Asiago cheese bread stolen from off the counter. Or two too many peanut butter and treat stuffed Kongs. Or could it be that he's been too good at his job of Pre-Wash leaving no crumb (but plenty of green vegetables) un-licked. It certainly could be that his sweet, adorable face has garnered him a few (hundred?) extra treats. Or that a certain someone has soft-spot and can't ignore Wally's laser-focus stare while eating her breakfast/lunch/dinner compelling her to share a small morsel. I have to blame you and your charm (well, not completely because I am a push-over). Whatever the reason, my companion and I are now on Weight Watchers together. Instead of two cups of kibble twice a day, Wally will now get one and a half. No table food from a certain someone that is me no matter how guilty...
Post a Comment
Read more