Just Checking Up
Last January I put on my old lady panties, which are like big girl panties only wrinkled, and went to the doctor for a check-up. It had been a few years but I felt the same, only smug because I still felt the same. It was good to know the passing years had had no effect on me. That way I could be sure I wouldn't die--unlike you, who probably will.
And the world caved in. First it turned out that the oxygen thingie they put on your finger said that my oxygen was a little low. Next I'm at a pulmonologist's and he's telling me I have asthma and need a sleep test. If you've ever had one of those sleep tests, you've seen what the downside of the next life is going to be. They hook you up to all these little stress patches and tell you to sleep normally. Apparently they had me confused with Gandhi.
Then they told me I needed a CPAP (pronounced see-pap which sounds like something that would suckle me but isn't) machine. The CPAP industry is like the dog food industry. They tell you you're going to die without it. What did dogs eat before dog food? Now we can only feed our dogs dog food because were we to be trusted to feed our own dogs, we would feed them cupcakes and chocolate milk. And everybody knows how awful chocolate is for dogs. Without a CPAP I might as well not bother to go to bed. I'm just wasting my time because I don't breathe correctly. I stop breathing every other breath.
So now I sleep in a Darth Vader mask that forces me to keep breathing. It's a good thing we had our kids when we did because it would no longer be happening now. The literature even tells you specifically that it won't interfere with intimacy. That sort of advertising takes nerve.
Then while listening to my heart, just before I went out the door, in a last minute effort to change the subject, the pulmonologist says I have an irregular heart beat and need to go downstairs for an EKG immediately or I could have a stroke and die. Like, in the parking lot or the McDonald's drive through. Which if you're a doctor and reading this, I know is true but hold the drama, please.
Now my hip is hurting and another doctor visit has told me I have arthritis and need a new hip Where will it all end? Is this "the encircling gloom" we've heard so much about? Right now the idea of exercise sounds fabulous, just like the idea of being able to walk again. I have surgery Monday to fix the hip.
I feel repentant, ready to change my ways, become a veggie fanatic and walk three miles everyday. It's been three months since I've been able to get around easily, and will I have quietly changed completely? I actually used to be interested in my health, ironically when I was younger and healthy. More than no wrinkles, no more saggy eyelids, will I be able to rekindle my inner desire to be strong and energetic? That's the part that needs to be younger: my soul.
And the world caved in. First it turned out that the oxygen thingie they put on your finger said that my oxygen was a little low. Next I'm at a pulmonologist's and he's telling me I have asthma and need a sleep test. If you've ever had one of those sleep tests, you've seen what the downside of the next life is going to be. They hook you up to all these little stress patches and tell you to sleep normally. Apparently they had me confused with Gandhi.
Then they told me I needed a CPAP (pronounced see-pap which sounds like something that would suckle me but isn't) machine. The CPAP industry is like the dog food industry. They tell you you're going to die without it. What did dogs eat before dog food? Now we can only feed our dogs dog food because were we to be trusted to feed our own dogs, we would feed them cupcakes and chocolate milk. And everybody knows how awful chocolate is for dogs. Without a CPAP I might as well not bother to go to bed. I'm just wasting my time because I don't breathe correctly. I stop breathing every other breath.
So now I sleep in a Darth Vader mask that forces me to keep breathing. It's a good thing we had our kids when we did because it would no longer be happening now. The literature even tells you specifically that it won't interfere with intimacy. That sort of advertising takes nerve.
Then while listening to my heart, just before I went out the door, in a last minute effort to change the subject, the pulmonologist says I have an irregular heart beat and need to go downstairs for an EKG immediately or I could have a stroke and die. Like, in the parking lot or the McDonald's drive through. Which if you're a doctor and reading this, I know is true but hold the drama, please.
Now my hip is hurting and another doctor visit has told me I have arthritis and need a new hip Where will it all end? Is this "the encircling gloom" we've heard so much about? Right now the idea of exercise sounds fabulous, just like the idea of being able to walk again. I have surgery Monday to fix the hip.
I feel repentant, ready to change my ways, become a veggie fanatic and walk three miles everyday. It's been three months since I've been able to get around easily, and will I have quietly changed completely? I actually used to be interested in my health, ironically when I was younger and healthy. More than no wrinkles, no more saggy eyelids, will I be able to rekindle my inner desire to be strong and energetic? That's the part that needs to be younger: my soul.
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