Yesterday, terror made me bite the bullet and brave the ER under non-emergency circumstances. Anyone who has been forced, by circumstances of poverty, to use the ER as a regular doctor knows that waiting is the thing you will do most.
So I went and waited.
Did I mention that all the local urgent care places were closed yesterday? So it was even more crowded than usual. I got there at around 1:30 pm, and left just before 6 pm.
Actually, that was pretty good for a crowded holiday night.
I sit in the waiting room with one of those IV starter tubes in my arm for several hours until the adorably pudgy little whatever he is takes me back to a room. He’s so cute he makes me want to pet him. He, a medical professional, blushes and whispers when he asks about how badly I’m bleeding.
It’s just A-freaking-dorable!
I didn’t expect the doctor’s visit to be very long, they had already taken blood and were running tests while I was in the waiting room. I also didn’t expect the doctor to be around my age and fairly attractive.
Before anyone panics in sympathy for my husband, I understand exactly why I found the doctor attractive.
He looked like me, only male. Same hair and eye color, same squared facial features, same eye shape, even same skin tone.
After talking with the unreasonably attractive doctor in the ER last night I found that it looks like I’m in the beginning stages of menopause. I was told that I should consider this as a warning shot before menopause really buckles down and starts getting serious about her job.
So thankful that this isn’t a sign of cancer.
And my extraordinarily handsome and intelligent husband just thought to ask me who’s jeans I’m wearing since they are so baggy looking.
So far the year looks better than the last.