Am I Grown Up?
Today I went to the Doctor's office. Duh duh duh...
I walked in, as usual, and Bertha, the woman behind the counter, waved hullo. My dad signed me in and we waited with the other four year olds for my check up. As I was waiting, a girl a little older than I was there with her charge, a five year old, whom I hope she was babysitting. I looked at her, and she looked for my child. Suddenly it became that episode of Friends. You know the one. Ross still went to his pediatrician at age fifty or however old they were. I got depressed and looked away.
Maggie, a new nurse, called me in and weighed me. She measured me, only I was taller than she, so it got a bit awkward. She led my father and me into the check-up room, and got my vitals. Apparently it's refreshing to talk to someone who can do her multiplication tables. How would I know? She recorded all of my information and giggled in a creepy high pitched voice as I told her how the last time they drew my blood they made me cry. And Billy says I bruised. (he's right)
Next Maggie informed me I would have to get into a gown so the doc himself, Michael Perry, could feel my heartbeat. That's cool, gown's aren't my style, but I was willing to give this lady a chance. My dad incredibly awkwardly left the room, and when I gave him a weird look for his absurdity, he told me it would be innapropriate for him to stay. Because I totally wanted to change and be in a backless floaty thing in front of my father. Obviously.
Here's the duh duh duh. Ready? She brought my gown in. I was ready for the usual, blue and white checks, or even one with a broken string. But no. I couldn't possibly get a normal person gown. My gown was covered in bugs bunny cartoon characters and fit as a shirt. I was amazed at this. Have they no older customers? (assuming I'm shopping rather than being at the doctor's) I gave Maggie an insolent look. I would take a stand. I would not wear the gown. "I know it's a little small, hehehehehehehe, but you can just wear it as a shirt and keep your pants on. Hehehehehehheheheh." I gave her the meanest look I could muster, and I can muster, let me tell you. She seemed frightened, and closed the door quickly as she apologized profusly about their laundry service. Before she left I apologized for my own rudeness. It wasn't Maggie's fault I was dressed like a three-year-old watching Sunday morning cartoons. I laughed cheerfully, and even took the gown off the chair so she would know I didn't completely blame her.
The visit was fine. I'm not dying, or at least I'm not dying any more than I was before I was forced to display Bugs Bunny brilliantly on my chest. I just have to keep up the milkshake diet and REST.
And now the big question. Is a pediatrician the right way to go? Am I making some sort of non-mature mistake by continuing to see a doctor who normally deals with collick? Might I be better suited with a creepier yet more professional kind of guy? I don't know. I do know this. The complimentary lollipop was fantastic.
I walked in, as usual, and Bertha, the woman behind the counter, waved hullo. My dad signed me in and we waited with the other four year olds for my check up. As I was waiting, a girl a little older than I was there with her charge, a five year old, whom I hope she was babysitting. I looked at her, and she looked for my child. Suddenly it became that episode of Friends. You know the one. Ross still went to his pediatrician at age fifty or however old they were. I got depressed and looked away.
Maggie, a new nurse, called me in and weighed me. She measured me, only I was taller than she, so it got a bit awkward. She led my father and me into the check-up room, and got my vitals. Apparently it's refreshing to talk to someone who can do her multiplication tables. How would I know? She recorded all of my information and giggled in a creepy high pitched voice as I told her how the last time they drew my blood they made me cry. And Billy says I bruised. (he's right)
Next Maggie informed me I would have to get into a gown so the doc himself, Michael Perry, could feel my heartbeat. That's cool, gown's aren't my style, but I was willing to give this lady a chance. My dad incredibly awkwardly left the room, and when I gave him a weird look for his absurdity, he told me it would be innapropriate for him to stay. Because I totally wanted to change and be in a backless floaty thing in front of my father. Obviously.
Here's the duh duh duh. Ready? She brought my gown in. I was ready for the usual, blue and white checks, or even one with a broken string. But no. I couldn't possibly get a normal person gown. My gown was covered in bugs bunny cartoon characters and fit as a shirt. I was amazed at this. Have they no older customers? (assuming I'm shopping rather than being at the doctor's) I gave Maggie an insolent look. I would take a stand. I would not wear the gown. "I know it's a little small, hehehehehehehe, but you can just wear it as a shirt and keep your pants on. Hehehehehehheheheh." I gave her the meanest look I could muster, and I can muster, let me tell you. She seemed frightened, and closed the door quickly as she apologized profusly about their laundry service. Before she left I apologized for my own rudeness. It wasn't Maggie's fault I was dressed like a three-year-old watching Sunday morning cartoons. I laughed cheerfully, and even took the gown off the chair so she would know I didn't completely blame her.
The visit was fine. I'm not dying, or at least I'm not dying any more than I was before I was forced to display Bugs Bunny brilliantly on my chest. I just have to keep up the milkshake diet and REST.
And now the big question. Is a pediatrician the right way to go? Am I making some sort of non-mature mistake by continuing to see a doctor who normally deals with collick? Might I be better suited with a creepier yet more professional kind of guy? I don't know. I do know this. The complimentary lollipop was fantastic.