Friday, 27 November 2015

How to embarass yourself, take #342.

There's a fine art to royally embarassing yourself, isn't there? It has to have a balance of just embarassing enough to go red, stifle a nervous giggle or two, but not so much so that you want to crawl into a hole for a month. I've danced along this line numerous times, some might say I have a knack for it. Hey, everybody needs a life skill.

Well.

Enter, my handsome doctor. My handsome, young, stylish doctor. That I have to tell when my snot is a funny color, etc.

Having a hot doctor is quite the catch 22, because generally you see your doctor for grosser, unpleasant things, and listing off the gross things your body is doing to said handsome doctor, is mortifying in and of itself. Having to use the actual names of my private parts!? You mean you don't know what I mean when I say "my bits"!? Mortifying. Last year I went to see him and was smack in the middle of the flu, so my handsome, South African accented doctor got to listen to my chest and lungs and feel my fever sweaty back and forehead, whilst I sat there wanting to shrivel up. That illness then turned into a raging chest infection which further turned into pneumonia, so my visits with him during that 4 week period were miserable, phlegmy, sweaty and gross.

Now, I thought that would've been the worst of it, save for the time when motherhood enters my life and I'm sure brings with it a plethora of embarassing goodness, it does seem to go this way for me.

However, today I went in early this morning because I've had issues with being really tired, jittery and dizzy, and was thinking it was probably low iron or something like it, and I wanted a blood test. However, for the past week or so, I've had on and off sharp pains in my chest below my heart, when I would try and breathe deeply and wanted him to check on that too. Why not, right? So he listens to me breathe, listens to my heart, everything sounds fine. So then I'm lying down on the table and he's feeling around, pushing and poking around my stomach asking me if this felt uncomfortable. It does. "How have your poops been?" he asks. Instant red face, as if I want to talk about my poops with anyone other than my mother, sister and best friend. My live in boyfriend doesn't even know my poop habits - because I don't poop, hunny, no worries. "Umm, they've been less frequent lately than I'd like I guess.. every couple days?" I reply, trying not to giggle because I do that when I'm mega uncomfortable. "I would say you need to up your amount of fruit intake, the sugars in them are good for you & your colon, maybe especially try prunes." SO, as it would just happen to be, what I thought was a misplaced rib or a spasming muscle turned out to be: constipation. Try stifling that god damn uncomfortable giggle, it's tough.


Oh hey dark hole, you look comfy - mind if I crawl into you for the next week or so?

1 comment:

  1. Hahahah, love this post! Fine Physician Friday... The new Man crush Monday? Because let's face it, your doctor's smoking hot!!

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