I was almost late to my doctor’s office this morning for my scheduled annual physical, so I didn’t check the forecast. The sky was overcast, but I knew my trusty umbrella was somewhere in the car. No worries.
I knew it was going to be an interesting day when I arrived at the doctor’s office, and the nurse asked, “Did you bring the samples?”
And I said, “Samples? Carpet? Wallpaper?”
“I sent you containers in the mail for urine and stool samples,” she said.
“When did you mail them?”
“Well, they’ll probably be delivered today.”
She eyed me skeptically. “I’m sure you got them.”
I returned her stare. “If I’d gotten them I’d have done my duty (heh!)”
After several long heartbeats she looked away. “You’re going to have to give us a urine sample now. We can send the cup for the stool sample home with you.”
“Well, it’ll probably be there today,” I intoned, trying to keep a straight face.
With an honest to goodness “harrumph!” she indicated that I should go into the restroom where there were paper cups. I knew the drill, so I printed my name and the date on the cup and proceeded to do my thing.
But when I went to put the cup in the little urine sample compartment I hit the bottom of the cup on the edge of the compartment and, you guessed it, liquid went everywhere.
So I called for the nurse. She was so not happy with me. I offered to do the clean up, but noooo! Martyr.
Now I lacked any urine in my cup or anywhere else, except for the bit that got splashed on my capris pants. I used a wet wipe to clean that off. Now I have to take a sample back when I’ve managed to produce some.
The visit with the doctor went well. I told him some stuff. He nodded and wrote some prescriptions. But he knows how much I hate to take meds so he asked, “Why do we even bother?”
“Because you’re an optimist at heart?”
He threatened to throw my chart at me, but I know his aim is as awful as his handwriting, so I didn’t even flinch.
From his office I went for my annual mammogram. The skies had opened up and rain was gushing down in buckets by the time I reached the breast imaging center. I reached into the backseat for my umbrella, and came up with only an atlas and a Publix shopping bag, neither of which make very good umbrellas.
Crap. There I sat in a white T-shirt trying to wait for a lull in the downpour. As the time for my appointment drew near I knew I had to make a dash for it. Gathering my purse to my chest and holding the Publix bag above my head I ran as quickly as my flip flops would allow and arrived at the front door drenched from head to toe.
At that exact moment I remembered that the doctor’s order for the mammogram was sitting on the passenger seat of my car. I cursed creatively and ran back the way from which I’d just come, dodging a close lightning strike on the way. Taking brief refuge from the storm I sat in my car and laughed. Surely this would be a great blog article, if nothing else.
I grabbed the bright pink mammogram sheet and scurried back to the center. Checking in with the main desk I took a clipboard and began filling in the necessary information. After turning my paperwork in I went to dry off in the restroom and noticed something odd on the front of my t-shirt:
Pink splotches all over the breast area. That was weird. My soggy purse wasn’t pink, so it didn’t come from there. Then I remembered the mammogram order from the doctor:
So, my physical’s in the books for this year; although, I have to take in those samples and have some bloodwork done. My annual mammogram is checked off. Clear sailing from here on in. Well, we can always hope.
It is still raining. And I still can’t find my umbrella.