Somewhere between twenty-seven and thirty-seven my warranty has expired. I am sure it is just coincidence that twenty-seven is when I had my first child. I seemed to have reached a peak this year that is disconcerting. When I went for my physical this year I was going to mention them to my doctor. As I sat on the scary gurney thing, wearing the little tissue and my fuzzy socks, freezing in the air conditioning that was set to Ice Age, I tried to tally up all the things to mention.
The wait wasn’t too long actually, I had made it thru their most up to date magazine which had some great recipes for Oxen Roast and a really racy article on the president at the time, Washington…something about him, Martha and a seamstress. This was the first time I had met my doctor, which was interesting since her name appeared on my charts for six years. I was a bit taken aback at the age of these doctors. When she entered, I could only speculate that she came to work on her Barbie bike and brought her lunch in a Snoopy lunch box. She smiled and the light from above hit her braces, causing me momentary blindness.
Our time together was less than it took for me to get to her office, get undressed and wait for her arrival. I was informed that I had no pulse, my blood pressure was so low that it was probable that I was living with a vampire, my cholesterol let her know that eating one pound of bacon by yourself once a month is not a good idea and my sleep habits were so bad that insomniacs felt bad for me. Needless to say, I never did get around to telling her some of my worst new symptoms.
So I decided I need to make a list of them for the next time I decide to show for a physical, which should be roughly around the time my doctor goes to prom. Here is the running tally:
Who Are You Again and Where Is The Thing I Am Looking For Disease: I only have two children yet I will go thru seven or eight names before I come close to who they are. Within seconds of someone telling me their name I will instantly forget. This goes for numbers, addresses and directions as well. As soon as I put something “away” I will have no idea where it is. This goes for keys, shoes, papers and children.
What Did You Say and Stop Yelling Syndrome: My hearing seems out of whack recently. I can hear a child whispering a dirty word four rooms away while construction is going on outside my window, but I cannot hear my husband asking me why I wrote a check for four dollars. I spend most of my days muttering What? What?, then snapping at folks for screeching their answers at me. My daughter speaks in a tone that causes dolphins to turn suicidal, my husband is a grumbler and my son goes between shouting and whispering. My antidote to this is to turn on my mp3 player, put on my music and tune them all out.
How Do You Like It Sickness: this seems to be a recent occurence where I am stricken by a sadistic need to torment family members and others. I have the sudden urge to wake up my daughter in the middle of the night to ask if she is sleeping. The desire grows strong to follow my son around the house telling him what time it is every two seconds. Go on-line when Chris isn’t looking and make his EverQuest character commit suicide by dung beetle. I want to poke Mark then blame it on Melissa. Eat half of Melissa’s dessert and blame it on Mark. Most of all, I want to wait until Chris and the children are nice and comfy at five in the morning on a sunday, tiptoe into the hallway and shout, “BUS!!!”
So if I ever see my doctor again these are a few things to discuss with her. If I can remember what her name is and if I can get an appointment on a day that she didn’t get grounded for coloring on her prescription pads.