Last night I lay awake in bed as episode after episode of private practice passed on abc.com, unable to feel my completely exhausted body relax, and unable (perhaps due to the subject matter of my television choice, though it is a personal favorite) to stop thinking about having to go to the doctor in the morning.
My hand hurts. I’m sure I have arthritis even though I’m only twenty-three, and will probably lose complete range of motion in my hand before I’m forty. And what if I have an STD and what if I have cancer and what if, what if, what if… And how will I explain… And how will my dreams be compromised… And what would you say… And so on and so forth until the early hours of the morning, while I repeatedly chastised myself for letting it have been so long since my last visit.
I had decided several days prior that it was time, that before I left town to spend my winter somewhere else, I absolutely had to accept the fact that I needed to go to the doctor and the dentist. And it just so happened that they both had cancellations, for the same day, today. And it just so happened that it worked out perfectly in my schedule.
And so here I am six hours later: a full exam, a carpol tunnel diagnosis, the accquisition of a very sexy wrist brace, ten vials of blood taken, teeth cleaned, and a small newish cavity reported.
And yet, though everything hurts and I feel unreasonably poked and prodded, I have to pat myself on the back just a little for finally getting around to doing the things that are really important, and seemingly required for responsible adulthood. And it definitely definitely could have been worse…
Image: New Nurse Jane
**UPDATE: late night recovery..
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