Did someone call for a doctor?

I’ve been sick for the past couple of weeks. And my God it’s been annoying. It hasn’t been the kind of sick that just goes on for 2 weeks – which is why it’s annoying. My sickness actually went away for a couple of days and so I started doing my normal activities again. And it came back. Strong. Like a real jerk. So, since I’d lived with it for a week, I thought I should just stick it out. But I finally caved and went to see the doctor. I just happened to get an appointment with my favorite one at my general practitioners office. So, that made me happy. But after our “meeting” I was reminded of our history. You see, I remember this history, because in my side of this story, I’m only seeing him. But I would venture to say he doesn’t remember me so clearly because he sees thousands of other people that aren’t me, every year. So, really, he’s the lucky one. To only have to see me a couple times a year – could you imagine?? It would probably be awesome. Here are some of the highlights of our time together. I’ll just refer to him as Dr. B. He doesn’t really need a name for the purpose of this game. Of course, you DO need to know that he’s a cutie, though. He is short (to me) but a super cutie – among his other great traits. I’ve seen him many, many times, but there are a few quality times I’d like to share. Thankfully, for all of these different visits, the setting will be the same – the office patient room. Of course it isn’t always the same room, but that doesn’t matter to you, does it? Didn’t think so…

Age = 16; Reason for visit = my yearly woman exam (my very first!)
Dr. B comes in and explains what will be happening and makes me feel at-ease, before he explains to me how to wear the paper gown and blanket for this particular exam.
I quickly get undressed and in these oh-so-comfortable “clothes” (can I wear them out?!?) and wait.
Dr. B (knocks and cracks the door open): May I come in?
Me: Yes, come in. I’m naked! And ready!
Dr. B (shaking head): Jesus

Age = 22; Reason for visit = not feeling like myself, going through some personal issues and have to see a Dr. to refer me to another Dr.
Dr. B: So, tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.
So, I explain away – I won’t bore you with these details
Dr. B: Alright, so basically you just got a lot of shit going on in your head. And it’s fucking with you. So, all you’ve got to do is just get it out. Write that shit down on paper. Make a list of “things that are bad” and “things that are good”. I bet you have a pretty hard time filling out that bad side….
Visit continues…but seriously! What a bad ass! This dude cussed and spoke to me like a human. I already liked him, but man…it was getting serious. REMINDER: he HAS already seen my lady bits, too.

Age = 24; Reason for visit = It was the summer, but I was sick and needed to see my doctor. For this visit, my boyfriend (now husband) comes with me.
In the waiting room, I let boyfriend know he should come back with me, if he wants, so shortly after we are escorted to the room. At this time in my life, I’ve just graduated from college, but am still looking for a day-time job. What this means is I am still a bartender. And that means my boyfriend is dating a bartender.
Dr. B (knocks and slowly walks in): Oh my God! It smells just like a bar in here! Jeez guys!!
Visit continues…awesome! He knows what a bar smells like. That’s my kind of doctor!

Age = 26; Reason for visit = twisted my ankle a few weeks prior and it was still really hurting
Dr. B had it x-rayed and found out I’d fractured this ankle in 2 places. Oops.
Me: Yeah, but I’ve been walking on it for a few weeks. I mean, that must mean I have a really high tolerance for pain!
Dr. B: A few weeks? No. All that means is that you are stupid.
True.

Age = now; Reason for visit = this stupid sickness I was complaining about that got this whole mess started
Dr. B (knocks and comes in – as soon as he sees me, he shakes his head): Oh, now here’s trouble
We discuss the reason for my visit and he puts the stethoscope up to hear my heart
Dr. B: Well, it’s beating.
Me: So, it IS there?
Dr. B: Yes. But it is so cold.
We discuss the fact that I’ve been sick for 2 weeks and my stupid husband NEVER gets sick
Dr. B: Well, that’s a good thing.
Me: No, it is so annoying. Can you like give me some of this sickness in a jar so I can pass it to my husband?
Dr. B: I want no part in that. You are MEAN!
Me: No, it’s just frustrating. And he’s SO cocky about it, too.
Dr. B: He’s a GUY!
Me: Ugh.
Dr. B: Any other questions?
Me: Was this a waste of my time to come in? I mean, it’s just going away on its own, huh?
Then we spent literally 10 minutes talking about restaurants and bars and the beer we like to drink. Oh! And I left feeling better!

So, Dr. B – I know you don’t read this, but man do I adore you. You’re real and honest and so helpful. I feel bad you have me as a patient sometimes, but I think I keep you on your game. If nothing else, I help exercise your head-shaking muscles, right? And you better believe I hope someday my kids have a doctor as cool and smart as you are. Plus, you’re really cute.

Hearing about your kids is fun.

You know how parents love to talk about their kids? Like, all of the time? For the most part, I hate these talks. I don't have kids and I have my dogs to talk about, so I'm not sure if I'll have time in my story-telling adventures for kiddo talk, anyway.

But I do wonder about all the boring stories my parents told to their friends about my brother and I when we were growing up. Do strangers know about the first time I pooped in a toilet? Or maybe about the first time I mimicked my dad and said the 'f' word? How about when I first dressed myself?

No fair! I don't even know about those firsts! For all I know, I've never pooped in a toilet, used to 'f' word, OR dressed myself. Ummm. The point is...no stranger or non-family member cares about these things. So why do we feel the need to share? It has to be because we are certain our lives are THE most interesting thing on the planet. Or that we just don't have anything else to talk about. My guess is a combination of both.

Now, thank you for reading all about my life.

My husband is an idiot.

First of all, if you’re married to me, you shouldn’t be reading this. So, to clarify: what that means is, if you call me “your wife” and we said “I do” in front of friends and family in a church in REAL LIFE, do not read this.
So, here’s the deal. My husband is an idiot. I know most of you will think, “Hey, wait. She’s married to my husband, too?” But don’t worry. I’m not. Because I’m the only one stupid (do I mean ‘lucky’?) enough to marry this guy. Sure he seems great on paper – funny, SUPER nice, giving, adorable, hard worker, passionate, etc…but he’s a moron. Because he says things sometimes that are just idiotic. And he’s not saying it to be mean. Obviously. Otherwise I would say “my husband is jerk wad”. That’s not the case. He’s just a dude who doesn’t know that what he’s saying to help a situation is actually making said situation worse.
(deep breath) Let’s recreate:

Me (walking out the door for work): Sometimes it’s just hard to work 2 part time jobs because I just don’t know where either job is going
Moron: Well, you know what you’ve been told.
Me: Yeah, but that could be ‘lip service’ for all I know.
Moron: Listen, we all know you’re easily replaceable…
Me: Wait. So I should really be worried now. Thanks for making my uneasiness even worse.
Moron: No. What I’m saying is that you aren’t an asset.
Me: Ok. I’m going to work. Thanks.
Moron (panicky back-pedal): NO! I’m not saying YOU. I’m saying a person…
Me: Bye. I love you.

And I do. I really do. He’s great and he really doesn’t do things maliciously. So you can’t be mad at him almost ever. Like the time he got off work and went out with co-workers for ‘a beer’. Please keep in mind I’m not stupid. I realize what ‘a beer’ means. Mainly because I enjoy many ‘a beers’ quite frequently. But what I am learning is that ‘a beer’ to my husband actually means this:

This is the last communication from me. I will likely drink so much that being convinced to hang out at someone’s house after the bar closes (YES – I will stay until close) is a good idea. And then, I’ll probably drink more. And will only wake up when you have woken up to no husband at home, no car in the driveway, and no answer to my cell phone the first 4 times. THEN I will wake up, act like everything is cool (“yeah, I’m on my way home right now”) and get home an hour later, after you’ve left for work – hopefully.

And I don’t get mad. I really, really, really don’t. Frustrated? Sure. Defeated? You bet! But to drive the moron nail in the coffin, he did it again THE VERY NEXT NIGHT. Only this time, it was ok. Because, see, he was taking care of the co-workers who got drunk and needed rides. And needed to hang out more. And then needed to go get some breakfast at 5:30am. Oh, wait. That time I actually did hear from him. He text me asking if I wanted anything from Café Brazil around 5:30am. Bad move on his part, cause if it weren’t for that text, I may not have even noticed that he got home at 7:00 that morning.

God bless. My husband is still reading this. Hey, moron…remember what I said? That’s what I thought. So, you better not bring this up to me at dinner. When you’re removing your foot from your mouth so you can finish the perfectly cooked chicken and veggies I made for you. That you are eating in the beautiful house I just cleaned for you because I paid the mortgage on time.

Man! I’m such an awesome wife. What were we talking about...?

Something you might need to know about me:

"I think farts are funny. Like, SO funny. If you were already my friend, you would know this. It's not a state secret or anything, but I wanted to be sure I came out and said it before you get too invested in this whole thing."
I decided that if I wasn't married, this is how I would start all of my dates. But, luckily, I am married. To a wonderful man who makes me laugh each and every morning. Because he, too, thinks farts are really funny.