I pay people to hurt me
In the next few weeks, my dental hygienist will jab my gums with sharp metal instruments until I bleed. My ob/gyn will jam a freezing cold pry bar where the sun don't shine. My breasts will be squished to half-inch pancakes by the mammogram machine, and my physician will take my blood for my yearly physical. Yes, I pay these people to hurt me.
I'm a coward. I fantasize about calling the doctors' office after business hours to cancel my appointments. I don't like getting poked and prodded and hurt until I bleed. Worse, I don't like virtual strangers in my "personal space." Heck, I can't even bring myself to get a massage, and that's supposed to be pleasurable. Going to the doctors' office is infinitely worse.
In an effort to cope, I've come up with a list of good things about going to the doctor:
- I will have free time to read a smutty novel while I relax in the waiting room.
- For once, I can have an uninterrupted conversation with a grown up.
- A gigantic bowl of ice cream will be my reward after each painful visit.
- Napping on the examination table is allowed!
- I won't have to clean the toilet if I'm at the doctor's office.
- It's possible to have some laughs with fellow victims in the waiting room.
- If the doctors find something wrong, my husband will feel so sorry for me that I won't have to make dinner for a very long time!
- My brother-in-law, who died of lymphoma at 50.
- My neighbor, who died of ovarian cancer at 45.
- My father, who has had more root canals than humanly possible.
- My aunt, who died of breast cancer at 33.
This is an original post to Philly Moms. Lynn writes about the lighter side of family life at For Love or Funny.
