Remember all those teenage years we spent wishing we were popular? Oh, maybe you didn’t because you were part of the popular crowd, tormenting the rest of us with your hipper clothes and blonder hair and slimmer body and cuter boyfriend. (Remember, I thought I was straight then.) I should only speak for myself, I guess. But now that I’ve experienced popularity as an adult, I’d give it up in a second.
Every physician I meet seems to want a piece of me. I know it’s not my charm or my wit or my scintillating conversation; it’s my fascinating lemon of a body. How do I tell these folks vying for my attention that my little black book is full? I just don’t have time for another relationship right now. I barely have time for myself and my family.
Thursday I spent four hours in doctors’ offices. I had to skip savasana to get to the first doctor, who was running so far behind I was almost late for the second. I figured I’d see both of them that day and be done with them. But nooooo, they had other ideas.
The first, whom we’ll call Dr. Woman, and not just because she’s a woman, had sent me away for tests, the results of which unfortunately require follow up in an operating room in a few months. Very nice woman, that Dr. Woman, but I was hoping the tests findings would result in our not needing to forge a lasting relationship. No such luck.
The second lovely woman, whom we’ll call Dr. Eye–no explanation needed, I trust–addressed my concern, a little lump in my eyelid that is probably nothing more than a wee infection. I figured medication or maybe a little careful snip-snip and a follow up and that would be it. But no, she too wants to have a lasting relationship with me. Dr. Woman I can kind of understand, but does Dr. Eye really need to follow me just because I have leukemia? She seems to think so.
Maybe once you have cancer in one part of your body, doctors want to make sure you don’t get cancer in any other parts. I must admit I wasn’t really worried about my eyes. I almost told Dr. Eye that she’d have to take a number and wait in line. I worry I may spend the rest of my days visiting doctors of varying persuasions. If this is popularity, I want nothing of it, thanks.
By the grace of God, today Dr. Radi-O freed up a spot on my relationship roster. He kindly told me he didn’t want to see me again. Based on the improvements in my symptoms alone, Dr. Radi-O decided our relationship is over for now, but the door is always open if I need to return, i.e., if my spleen decides to try busting out of my gut again. He stressed I was welcome to call anytime if I missed him.
How could I break his heart by telling him I won’t have time? I’ve gotten so popular since our last visit that I don’t know when I’d fit him in.