“Jerry. He’s a GUY.”
When we last met, I was formulating a plan to trick my mom’s unsuspecting yet highly professional and competent doctor to accept me as a new patient. I spent two days practicing the request:
“So… The website says that you’re not accepting new patients, but I don’t know if it’s up to you … If it’s up to you … I was hoping that … I was wondering if … I wanted to know if you could would take me as a patient because I need a new primary care physician. I’ve seen two other doctors here recently and I hated them and they were awful did they go to medical school online or what? they weren’t a good fit for me.”
How the conversation actually went:
Me: The website says that you’re not accepting new patients, but …
Doctor: I’m not accepting new patients in general, but I do take referrals from current patients or friends or family. Do you need a new doctor?
Me [weeping]: YES!
Doctor: I would love to be your doctor!
Me: ZOMG I WOULD LOVE FOR YOU TO BE MY DOCTOR!!!
I told her briefly what was going on with me ill-health-wise, and she ordered lab tests right then and there and had her nurse make an appointment for me. So that’s the good news. The bad news is that after my lab results came back, her nurse called and said I need to have a CT scan. It still could turn out to be nothing, but I’m not going to assume that it’s nothing because when you do that the Fates go, “oh? Confident are we?” and then consult WebMD (because everyone does) to find the rarest, most painful, least curable ailment to give you. So instead I have spent the weekend freaking out about my upcoming obviously positive (by which I mean negative) scan results and trying to get rid of all the embarrassing items I have in my house so that in six months, my family won’t be in my house in their funeral clothes wondering why I have Nancy Drew video games.
“CT scans used to be called CAT scans, and I like cats, so how could it turn out badly?”
– A thought I actually had this weekend.
Seeing as how the end is no doubt near, I was thinking I should have a bucket list, even though “bucket list” is a stupid term. Also, there aren’t that many things I want to do. There’s a lot of traveling I’d like to do, but I sense that if I were on my last legs, getting felt up by a TSA agent would lose a lot of its charm. Besides, I have a vague idea that Cher in the movie Mask got it right when she was removing pushpins from the world map belonging to her recently deceased son Rocky and saying, “now you can go anywhere you want, baby.” On the other hand, I don’t know that I particularly want to spend even a portion of eternity staying in youth hostels and listening to Bob Seger with a giant-headed Eric Stoltz.
Then I thought that instead I should make a list of things I’d never do again if I knew I were going to die. But all I could come up with were things like “check my tire pressure” and “clean the gutters” and since I almost never do those things anyway, there’s really no point in writing them down. I guess some people would say they’d never floss their teeth or do laundry again, but that’s gross. Even if you’re terminal, you still have to have standards.
But still, I feel like I should make some kind of list. Therefore:
Things I Won’t Miss When I’m, You Know, Dead
1. That Cottonelle commercial where Mom, Dad, and teenage daughter give various tasteless names to the process by which a person uses toilet paper and then follows up with an adult version of a baby wipe. In the first place, some of that process is unnecessary, and in the second place, I really don’t want to hear about how someone is “crackalackin’ clean” or whatever.
2. Pigeons. I feel bad about this one because I try to love all (non-human) creatures, but honestly, I won’t miss pigeons.
3. Making lists.
4.
5. People who use the euphemism, “shut the front door!” Or “fricken.” “Farging” is okay, but other than “farging,” you should just fucking say it.
I call fuckin’ DIBS on the Nancy Drew!
Okay. I was going to leave you all my Christopher Cross albums, but I see no reason why you can’t have both.
I’m so glad you asked your new doctor–I’ve found that quite often I’m pleasantly surprised when I ignore signs such as ‘sold out’ or ‘not taking new patients.’ There is an old saying: “many go lacking for want of the asking.”
I can understand why you would be freaking out about the CT scan, since I would be feeling the same way, although I know they are fairly routine despite how scary it sounds to have a CT scan in theory.
I am totally with you on the flossing–I love the way my teeth feel after flossing and spending my last days with grungy teeth would just make everything worse. I rarely check my tire pressure but I would continue to get oil changes, because who wants to be stuck on the road on one of those ‘last days.’ Screw the gutters, though.
The last time I cleaned my gutters, the doofus who did it shoved the debris into the downspout that was hooked into the underground drainage pipes so the first time it rained after that, I ended up with a flooded basement and had to get a plumber to come out with an industrial snake. It’s been so long now since I’ve had the gutters cleaned that there’s a fern growing up there, but at least my basement is dry.
I’ve had two CTs in the past and they vary in unpleasantness and risk depending on whether they inject you with contrast or not. I didn’t ask if this was a contrast CT or not because I figure I’d rather not have one more thing to worry about.
Yeah, my BFF already has a key and instructions on what to toss before my family would have a chance to fly out here & root through my stuff.
It’s embarrassing, but not nearly as embarrasing as Nancy Drew. Trixie Belden all the way bitches!
Honestly, I was more of an Encyclopedia Brown girl.
whoa, I hit enter before I got to finish — then I tried to claim that avitar — denied.
Please keep us posted on the CT scan.
I will try to post the actual images. I think people would enjoy that.
whoa, I was messing around trying to figure out how to claim a gravitar or whatever the green bat dude is called, and somehow I posted that before I was done.
Please keep us posted on on the CT scan & so glad you got in with your mom’s dr.
Wait, I saw this movie already.
I added your name so the green bat dude should be yours as long as you comment as Jen. I can change it to something else if you want, but if you comment as Anonymous, WP will flag you by IP address as a spammer. DM me if you want to be go by something else here.
oh for fucks sake
Ha.
Congrats on the new doctor – my hair person provided me with a name last night, and if she is not accepting new patients, I now have a strategy, thank you. This year I have had an ultrasound, an MRI, an x-ray, and a CT scan – I would choose all of them over a mammogram or pelvic exam any day. Tip: wear no metal and you won’t have to take off any clothes. Hope they find the source of your problems and that it is easily fixed.
You can leave your clothes on for an MRI, but I’m pretty sure you have to get undressed for a CT. At least I’ve had to in the past. Maybe that wasn’t a real hospital. I agree that a mammogram is the worst, and they don’t even have to be. They have mammogram machines that require less squashing, and those aren’t bad at all. My current place doesn’t use those though so you have to settle for kicking the tech on your way out.
Last year I was having all kinds of aweful “female” problems. I was absolutely convinced I had ovarian cancer. Even more so when my doctor asked me to make an appointment to discuss the results of my ultrasound, rather than just tell me over the phone that I’m fine. (Turns out I have multiple fibroids.) Thinking about this prior to my follow-up appointment, I threw away all my sex toys, embarrassing poems and letters I’d saved over the years, anything I wouldn’t want my family to see. Then I found out I’m not dying, and in fact I’ll feel much better after menopause. Boy, do I miss that dildo.
After about age 35, every symptom makes you think about cancer. New mole? Skin cancer. Stomachache? Pancreatic cancer. Splinter? Pinkie finger cancer. When I was 20, I could be gushing blood from an artery yet be confident that a little Bactine would take care of it. The older I get though, I worry less about cancer and more about ending up with something chronic that requires daily management. I don’t want to have to be careful all the time; I just want to be able to eat entire pies if I feel like it.
Thank you so much for the soup recipe–it sound fantastic! I also loved your blog post on Rachel Ray. Although now I am wondering if a potato salad and potato chip sandwich is a good idea. Perhaps on whole wheat bread?
Sometimes I wonder if my hypochondria has more to do with Google than getting older. When I was young, I just had my mother’s medical book from the 1960s. It made me much less creative.
Potato salad on whole wheat makes me think of Ed Asner (I have my reasons), but it’s good when you’re feeling blue because it doesn’t require much chewing effort and also enhances the self-pity. Potato salad with potato chips? Hmmm. That needs a heartier bread like pumpernickel. Or maybe an onion baguette.
The internet has definitely made things worse, even if you just confine yourself to reputable sites. I should really set up my browser to block the Mayo Clinic’s symptom checker.
I think I have cancer all the time. And yet…at the same time I still sort of think I’ll never get cancer. Last vestiges of my inner 20-something self?
I’m suddenly craving potato salad. Gee…wonder why that is? (Probably a symptom of CANCER.)
I know, it’s a weird sort of fear/denial thing. Like even though I have the cholesterol of a very old very fat man and any random twinge or ache makes me suspect a heart attack is imminent, it’s not as if I’m not going to eat the french fries.
I was sure I left a comment on here. I must have a brain tumor or something. God, I miss that dildo.
You probably shouldn’t have given it to the neighbor’s dog for a chew toy. Now you have no dildo and the Neighborhood Watch meetings are mostly about you.
Good luck with the scan and and I’ll miss you when you’ll be, you know, dead. ;-)
Oh well in that case, I’ll try to stay alive.
I’m late to this party but I hope your CT scan comes back free and clear. If it’s anything to you, some docs are still calling them CAT scans, so there ya go.
And oh man, “Mask” used to make me weep a lot. Let’s not do that to our loved ones, but you better believe that I’m going on a nice month long vacation someplace warm, with a nice beach, but also with culture – none of that resort stuff for me
I keep meaning to update on this (because I’m sure everyone cares a lot), but the short story is I’m not dying, just kind of old.
I would do the complete opposite from you on the month-long death tour. I would park myself in a lounge chair on a beach outside a Four Seasons and have the waitstaff bring me Mai Tais and club sandwiches. I would also charge everything to my VISA card because good luck collecting from a dead woman, BofA.