Like being hit in the face with a frying pan...

Okay, so I went back to the doctor for the annual exam that was supposed to happen LAST week but did not because of a one day scheduling mistake - on their part. I woke up early this morning and did my best to mentally prepare myself for the unpleasantness that was to come. And let me just say this, in the entire of history of going for an annual exam, my body is cleaner and smoother than ANY other time in my life - including my honeymoon - on the actual day of the exam! TMI, I know, but comical in my book. I took what felt like an endless hot shower but it gave me that little extra boost I needed. I drank four glasses of water so that I would be able to pee on demand, grabbed a magazine and was off!

Things went smoothly upon my arrival - I was checked in quickly, there was no tedious checking of incomes and I.D.'s this time around and after only five minutes, I was called in to the back. I walked through the entire opening scene of the "Get Smart" tv show before I finally got to sit down. It was all down hill from there. First, and I am thoroughly ASHAMED to even have to admit this, I have gained back almost ALL of my Disney diet weight. I loathe myself right now. The lab tech wasn't in yet, so I was ushered in to yet another room where I waited for a nurse to come in and interrogate...I mean, get my medical history. I told her that I had been off my thyroid meds for 2 months due to lack of funds for new bloodwork and she looked as if she could care less. I signed forms, we chatted and she finally left. Then the PA came in. This was a no nonsense woman coming through the door. Oh, sure, she had a sweet voice and remembered me, blah, blah, blah, but once she sat down and opened my chart, that woman meant business!

She yelled at me for being off my meds and even though I explained my situation, she scared the begeesus out of me with all of the complications I have put on my body. That much weight gain in such a short amount of time - a strain on my heart. Kick in the shin number one. She lectured me for a good 30 minutes before I even had the opportunity to get in to the paper gown !! Once in the paper gown and in the most humiliating of positions, she can't seem to find my cervix!!! And note to any doctors reading this, talking cute and asking someone's cervix to "come on out" is NOT cute. It is on par with asking an adult to "look at the bunny" while you jab them with a needle. There is no cutesy tone while someone is in the stirrups! Remember that - do what you got to do and get the heck out of dodge, okay?

It took several minutes for my cervix to cooperate and then this woman must have felt it necessary to scrape my insides raw because I was just about like a cat on the ceiling at that point. I was THRILLED when she finally backed away. So at this point, I'm fat, I'm stupid for not taking care of myself, I clearly have a shy cervix and the lining of uterus or whatever she was digging for is no longer there. Things can only get better, right?

Now I get to go to the lab for blood work. The tech has finally decided to put in an appearance. Lucky, lucky me. She takes several viles and then sends me back to my room. Doctor cutesy comes back to yell at me some more because I am so anemic they are talking transfusions! BONUS! Now I get lectured on my eating habits and let me just say - I eat a very well-balanced diet. I DO eat my red meat, I do eat fresh vegetables, I do drink a lot of water. CLEARLY, there is something seriously wrong that I am not absorbing any iron. The plan of action? Iron supplements. LOTS of iron supplements. I don't think anyone here needs a further description of WHY this is so unappealing, do you?

After filling out more forms, more reminding me of the fact that I am 40 and therefore need to get a mammogram, she sets up an appointment for me for next week with a doctor who works on a sliding scale so that we can tackle my thyroid problem and get that all back on track, more yelling about taking better care of myself and all that jazz, she finally wishes me a good day. HA! Like that's possible at this point.

She leaves the room and I reach down to put my shoes back on...

They were two different shoes. I had left the house wearing two DIFFERENT sneakers. I had worn these same - apparently different - shoes all day yesterday and never noticed that they were not the same. I went shopping at the mall yesterday, in different sneakers. I worked yesterday, in different sneakers.

Sigh.

I don't know if there is a thyroid pill or iron supplement big enough to clear the fog that has settled itself in my brain.