Good Thing He’s Not My Regular
I had a follow-up appointment with the doctor who is helping me resolve my vampiric tendencies (or anemia, if we want to be dull about it) this afternoon.
I don’t really know this guy or his practice — I usually have all my stuff taken care of by my GP. But, since originally I had gone in to have a treatment done (which we are postponing by experimenting with the Pill) that my GP isn’t trained to do, I’m seeing this guy.
The wait isn’t long, so I’m very quickly brought back to a teeny tiny examination room. I had decided not to bring a book with me; instead, I brought my little sketchbook and new box of colored pencils. See, back in December, while I was surfing the Internet, I came across a suggestion to always carry a little sketchbook and pencils with you. Even if you don’t consider yourself an artist (which I certainly do not), it can be fun to doodle while waiting, and the stream of consciousness scribbling might result in something fun and creatively useful — a sort of visual journal, if you will.
There I am, with my sketchbook on my lap, the box of pencils open and tilted towards my hand so that the dark purple pencil that I want to use can slide out and become useful. Clearly, my artistic skills are even lacking in tool control, because instead of just one pencil sliding out, half the box ends up on the floor.
Wouldn’t you know it, the doctor picks the very moment that I’m bent over grabbing at the pencils strewn about the floor to come into the examination room. He’s got a confused look on his face and tells me “this isn’t what I’m used to seeing when I come in here!” Ooops. I stuff the pencils deep in my bag and turn my attention to the doctor’s questions.
We talk, we decide I would do best to try a different formulation, and we’re done. As I grab my coat and follow him out of this (teeny tiny, remember!) room, my foot gets caught on the leg of the chair and I barely catch myself on the exam table before falling.
The doctor looks at me worriedly. “Are you alright?” he asks. I respond breezily that yep! I’m fine! and start walking towards the exit. I am sure he thinks I am one crazy klutzy lady.
I really want this new prescription to work. So I don’t have to go back again.