Had an appointment with Dr Birhiray Tuesday. No big deal. Just a check-up. I always look forward to seeing Dr B, though. He’s my fav.
While we were waiting to get in to see Dr B, a lady came into the waiting room, and struck up a conversation with me. She was dressed in a pink sweatshirt, and pink hat, and she carried a pink bag. It was no great shock, then, when her conversation was all about breast cancer stuff. “Are you involved with any support groups?” she asked. I told her that I was not, and added that I wasn’t from Indy, and that I live over by Terre Haute. I figured that would put a damper on her recruitment efforts. I was wrong. “Have you ever heard of the Indy Oars?” she said. I had not. She then proceeds to explain to me that they’re a rowing team of BC survivors who row a big pink dragon boat. (Really? You say a PINK boat? Well, I never would have guessed.) “They practice Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays up in Geist—you should check it out.” I’m thinking, lady, I just told you I live over an hour away. You know exactly where I’m coming from, because you told me that you’re originally from Terre Haute yourself. Last time I checked, gas wasn’t free—even for survivors. In other words: Are you nuts?
Not that I’m hatin’ on the Indy SurviveOars, as they’re actually called. I think it sounds like fun. You know, they even have a drummer to keep everybody paddling in unison. I’m thinking I’d want that job—you know like in Ben Hur? BATTLE SPEED! Bom–bom, bom–bom, ATTACK SPEED! Bom-bom, bom-bom, RAMMING SPEED! Bom-bom-bom-bom-bom-bom… What? You say there’s no ramming in dragon boat racing? Well…fsssst….I don’t want to do it then. Here I was thinking it was going to be like a cross between canoeing and demolition derby, in a big pink boat. Dang it.
But, hey, at least she didn’t flash me.
Eventually I got called back to have my vitals taken. This includes the requisite blood samples and the dreaded weigh-in. Happily, Dr Birhiray’s Scales of Doom weighed me at a dainty 8 pounds lighter than my previous visit. Woo hoo! Go me! Of course, my previous visit was 3 months ago, so it’s not like the weight is just flying off of me or anything. But, I’ll take what I can get.
The first thing Dr B asked me about was my blog. Seems he’s not the one that’s been googling his name after all, although he said his wife might have done it. He had not actually been to my newish home here on WordPress, as he noted when Hubster pulled it up on his laptop for Dr B’s perusal. He got a kick out of the fact that he has his own category, but he quickly clicked from there over to Dr Schmidt’s category to see what I had to say about him. Yeah, that’s right, while everybody is wasting away out in the waiting area, Dr B is in the exam room with me & Hubster reading my blog and cackling. I don’t feel the least bit guilty about it either, since I’d spent my time in purgatory, too.
We did actually talk medical stuff. Shoot, he even did a full-fledged physical exam which only happens, like once a year. I told him about the memory loss issue. Bear in mind that he’s never surprised by anything I say, and he always has an option for dealing with it. This time, he told me that if the memory loss/lack of focus thing was really bad, it could be treated with Ritalin. “Ritalin?” I said, and then started laughing. “No, I’m serious” he said in his Nigerian accent. “I know, I just think it’s funny.” And you know, I have been feeling a little ADD. But in the end, I told him I didn’t think another prescription was necessary. It’s not like I forget how to get home or anything. Besides, the stories I have to tell about my little amnesia episodes are pretty great.
And really, Ritalin is a stimulant, so I’m thinking I can self-medicate with caffeine if I need to. You hear that, Honey? Those iced caramellas with the whipped cream on top aren’t over-priced luxuries—they’re therapy.