Come in, Come in, Wherever You Are

This is a day I have dreaded for about a year. Due to my intense workout regimen I have busted up my abdomen area. In my quest to keep the age creeper flab away and get back to my postpartum times three and almost a decade later six-pack, I have possibly just landed myself a trip to the OR.

Now somewhere between chopping wood, mulching two acres of flower beds, a half marathon and a daily hauling of three kids, a briefcase, gym bag and purse, I caused an “uh-oh” to my abdomen region.  I am not sure at which point the abdomen busted but I have been told by non-medical professionals (painters, electricians, work-out buddies, etc.), probably any and all of the above have contributed to the issue.

What I can tell you is just a few weeks ago when picking up some sod, I had the same sensation like when you were in third grade gym class and a dodge ball gets thrown at your abdomen. Minus the actual getting the wind knocked out of me, I had all the same physical responses of being hit in the stomach.

So I figured perhaps it is time I get checked out by a professional medical doctor. Google Doc and WebMD have given me the information to make a self diagnosis, but rumor has it, I need a professional MD intervention. 

So, last week, I call the doctor’s office to schedule a consult for “getting hit in the stomach sensation” (non-medical terms need not apply).  I am going to bite the bullet and get to the doctor. It completely frustrates me to no end because the last thing I need on my to-do is a doctor’s appointment.  It is just not an in and out type of service and I do not live a life of leisure.  I have got to move it, move it. 
Now fast forward to today. I arrive at my appointment 10 minutes early to complete paperwork and undergo all the medical debriefing. This is also known as occupy the patient in the waiting room because we book patients in 8 minute intervals to keep the cash flow streaming in. This is not on knock on you, medical doctors. I get it!  I am in sales too and it is a numbers game.  Book along but please tell your staff to be upfront and honest!   Like when I asked if the doctor was running on time and the staff personnel replies, “Oh yes, yes, we will be right with you.”
THINK! (image taken from

So I sit and figure the whole jeopardy bonus round think song will play on in my head one time and they will call some version of me (because my name is never pronounced correctly) shortly thereafter.  Forty-five minutes later, Alex Trebek is still staring at me with the “mmm hmm hmm hmm” playing in my head.  Seriously, there was a patient staring at me and he looked like he could be a game show host so please do pretend. Oh and by the way, you are going to be humming that tune all day long now.  My apologies in advance.

So, now it is time to pull up the suspenders and get all tough. I give a little “knock-knock” on the frosted glass window and let her rip. I start ranting and raving about how this is not running on time and I have three kids and a babysitter that needs to get to Jazzercise, blah, blah, blah. Then I plead, “Please tell me again, why I was told the doctor is running on time?”  They give me some explanation of how the doctor is with a new patient (uh hum what am I?) and then they just stared at me. So I reply, “I do not want to be disrespectful but PLEASE GO FIND OUT!”  Now I knew that within minutes the waiting room to examining rooms hallway door would open and they would call some version of my name.

Sure enough, they were calling me back. I politely say, “No thank you. I will just sit here and schmooze with the other patients and watch daytime TV smack.” Rather than sit in a 9×9 room reading the Steris hand sanitizer label over and over again, right? Yet, the nurse assures me it would only be a few minutes.

Now don’t you just love how the first thing they do when you get in the examining room is take your blood pressure. As if the steam coming out of my ears is not enough of an indication of my systolic and diastolic pressure. Then after the whole debriefing for a second time, the door shuts and all I hear is the hum of the fluorescent lights. As I sit on the crispy white paper covering the cot, I begin reading the Steris hand sanitizer label (see I told you). I also now know the unapproved abbreviation codes for patient charting. Another thirty minutes goes by.

I have two options at this point. I can get out and go home with no medical consult or I can succumb myself to the over booking patient torture. At last, the door opens and in walks the doc. After a quick peek, a little pressure, a please cough and an elementary school drawing, he tells me I have a pulled muscle. Really?  

So a half a vacation day later, ten-dollar co-pay, the darn jeopardy melody that I cannot get out of my head and a slew of sitter fees, I am being told to take it easy? What is that?  Can you write me a prescription for “take it easy? Can you explain this to my family, colleagues and children?  Plus, doesn’t he know I have a huge appetite for working out?  In all honesty, I love my life and the craziness of the hustle and bustle.  I am not sure if I can ever “take it easy?”


2 thoughts on “Come in, Come in, Wherever You Are”

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