Tuesday, August 22, 2006


Well, it’s that time of year again. The time of year women everywhere dread … the yearly physical. Add in the fact I delivered a baby in May and never went back for my post-partum checkup, and the fact that I turn 40 next month (OH MY GOD I’M TURNING FORTY!!!! As in, half of my life is freakin’ OVER and I haven’t accomplished **anything** on my “Things To Do Before I Die” list and holy crap have I mentioned that I’m turning forty?!!??!!? ---- deep breath, deep breath) so it’s time for my first ever mammogram, and I should probably have some blood work done and all kinds of other fun stuff. I mean, I’m not having any problems, but for Pete’s sake, the chassis was produced before Nixon took office, and probably needs some body work done and to have the engine checked out, if you know what I’m saying. Wow. Forty. I’m old AND depressed.

Anyway, the military has assigned Blaine and me to the same primary care doctor ever since we moved to Georgia, but since the doctors are active-duty military as well, they have a tendency to move away every few years. First we had Dr. H, who helped diagnosis both Blaine and Kendrie with cancer (Bet we were his favorite family, huh? Those Escoes, we're regular good luck charms!) then Dr. F, who we loved and who actually made house calls for us, and most recently, Dr. A. Dr. A just arrived here in Georgia last week. Blaine, as an “ongoing care” patient (read: permanent damn fixture in that office) had an appointment with him last week so they could meet and touch base regarding Blaine’s current and continuing care. Obviously, as Blaine’s first point of contact for the ungodly amount of referrals, surgeries, consultations and prescriptions he gets, it’s important they have a good, respectful level of communication. I was thrilled when Blaine came home from that initial appointment and told me that he liked Dr. A and that he seemed like a nice guy. Blaine’s next comment made me laugh: “You’re not going to want him to be your doctor, though, and ever see you naked. He’s way too good-looking.”

Ha! (Blaine knows me too well.)

So, fast forward to this morning, when I called to schedule my appointment for my yearly physical. I asked Dr. A’s nurse if they wanted to do it all in one whack, or if he wanted to simply do the blood work part and send me to Women’s Health for the “annual” exam. Oh, no, she replied, Dr. A can do it all at one time for you.

Remembering what Blaine had said about him, and knowing that the nurses in that clinic all know Blaine very well, I thought I would be funny and piped up with, “Oh, great … Blaine said I wouldn’t want him to do my pap smear because he’s way too good looking to see me naked!”

{crickets chirping -- no reply whatsoever}

She totally didn’t think it was funny. And I was left feeling like an idiot, who was trying to be funny, but wound up saying something completely inappropriate. When I told Blaine what had happened, his comment? “Oh, great. You told them I said he was good looking? Now he’s going to think I’m GAY!”

I don’t know which is more dismal. To be married to a gay guy, or be turning forty.

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