Riding Bikes, Poison, and Hopefully Keeping My Face

My morning was as usual (those of you who read my other writings know that my mornings are pretty hectic), only I had a visit with my doctor at 8:15, which meant getting up earlier. (Yes, I can do it, if I have to.) I always put my makeup on when I visit this doctor. I don't do this because I want to look good. I do this because I need to look 'well', and Lord knows... When I don't wear makeup, I hear things like... you must be exhausted, and many other flattering statements. You see, I don't just look tired. Some people have a resting a bitch face, and, well, I have a resting sad face. It's really unfortunate because I'm not ALWAYS sad. Take my sad face and add some dark circles? It's just not my best look for convincing someone that I am mentally well, even though, it is my natural look. Thanks, life!

I see this doctor for general health, and he is also the person that runs the show for the taming of my anxiety. At the current time, and for a while now, we do this with a mild sleeping pill. Apparently, when one sleeps appropriately, they function better. Imagine that! Haha! I had let my refills expire, and I needed more medicine. The receptionist, which acted like I was requesting some crazy drug, wouldn't transfer me to his nurse, and she informed me that I needed an appointment for such things. So, I made one.

My doctor isn't your normal doctor, he is very blunt. VERY BLUNT. He is also about seventy. One can't be sensitive and see this doctor. Luckily for me, I find him very humorous, and I feel that truth is truth. (To be honest, with his rudeness and all, he has helped me tremendously!) He once told me, while comparing my life to the structure of a house, that my husband was simply a pool in the yard. Apparently, husbands and pools are extra things that one doesn't necessarily need. Haha! I hadn't been complaining, I was simply over-stressed, and he was making sure it wasn't at my husband's hand. He also compared my old job to a toxic poison, and requested that I just stay home, claiming that being poor is just sometimes the better choice. Isn't lack of money a stressor? A big one?

Anyway, I made it on time. I sat in the Jeep for a moment. I always dread these visits, but I do like him as a doctor, so I keep going. Plus, if I run out of sleeping pills, on an insomnia night? My poor husband has to deal with it. He claims I go on rants about life problems. Apparently, they start with... "And you know what else?!"... as if he can hear my thoughts, and knows what I am talking about.

My visit started with the usual weight and blood pressure. Thankfully, I hadn't gained any weight. If I had, he would have addressed it, and I would have had to convince him that I wasn't a stress eater or something of the sort. Yes, this has happened. I believe it was over a five pound weight gain? Maybe less? I had to convince him that I wasn't depressed, just hungry.

The nurse started with her usual questions.

"Do you do regular breast exams?"

Okay. No, I don't. I always say I do, just in case it keeps me from being fondled. Her freezer cold hands, which I was pretty sure left frost bite on my arm, didn't need to be feeling me up. This is NOT the doctor I see for my female exams. So, I told her I did.

"Well, it's not like us married people need to do them. Our husbands will find any lumps as soon as they appear!"

She is laughing and looking reminiscent. Maybe she had a great night the night before? And the night before that? Every night? She must not have THREE kids. It was just getting awkward, and at that point, I was ready for the swap. I was hoping my doctor would be trading her places soon. Where does he find his nurses?

It wasn't long before she was out the door, and my doctor appeared in the room. When he walked in, his statement was as follows:

"So, how are you? How is your stress level? I mean... clearly you are stressed with as many kids that you have, but you should be used to that by now."

Okay. I have three kids. THREE. Yes, they have big age gaps between them. Yes, I'll probably be raising children until I can't walk any longer, but I only have three children. That isn't really a lot, is it?

I informed him of my current situation. I knew he would be proud that I was staying home with my baby, and that the insanely awful job I had was a thing of my past. He is not a fan of working mothers. Not even a little. He is very old school, and has mentioned to me several times that he and his wife never once had a babysitter, and that he worked his A off to provide, so she could stay home with their babies. (I'm guessing he only had two, because clearly having three is the equivalent to a small army in his eyes.) Mix being a working mother and a job that was emotionally abusive? Man, I used to really hear about it. He once made me take a medical leave from both of my jobs, so I could 'rest' and 'think about priorities'. I did those things, but going from 100mph to 1mph? Oh, it was rough, and it gave me lots of time to think about things, including the amount of pay I was out.

"Very good. Very good. I saw you out and about, and I saw your new baby. You seemed to be doing well. I called in your medicine for you. I didn't need to see you today."

That receptionist. What a c-word! She was probably just mad because I was right, and she was wrong. I tried to tell her I was just needing a mild sleeping pill, nothing crazy. I also tried to speak with his nurse. Thanks, lady, for making me pay $80.00 for nothing. It's cool. I didn't need that money. I mean... living on one income is EASY. 🙄

"Still smoking?"

The dreaded question. It makes me feel so weak. I informed him that I was.

"How much?"

This question is always worse than the first, especially when you are failing miserably. I told him that my smoking had increased, quite a bit, since I stopped my "as needed" anxiety medicine. (Another thing, that I expected him to be proud of.)

"So, you stop taking a very small dose of medicine, and now you inhale twice as much poison. Well, it's all poison, but the poison of your choice is the worst of the two."

Why I look for this man's approval is beyond me. I'm guessing it is because I really like him, and I generally understand that he is correct. Regardless, I am too scared to take multiple medicines. I don't like it, and I'm not going backwards. Well, backwards in my eyes, not his. I told him that wanted to quit smoking.

"Okay, I have a new rant. If you have heard it before, you are going to hear it again. Accountability. That is my approach to this. When you smoke, you do nothing else, but smoke. No phones. No talking. No walking around. You sit there, and you smoke the whole thing. For every cigarette, you will be aware of what you are doing."

This. This is why I go to him. It's a rather brilliant idea, if you think about it.

"If you are smoking and the phone rings, you answer it, and you tell them you will call them back after your cigarette. It doesn't matter who it is, you tell them that."

Haha! I can see how this could become pretty tacky. Who does that? Let's say I get a call from my daughter's school. Do I really say: Hold on. I'm smoking, I'll deal with this when I'm finished. Give me about three minutes.

"You see I do something dangerous. I ride my bike all over the place. I was in an accident that almost killed me. The difference, besides the fact that I can breathe to ride a bike and you can't, is that my dangerous is doing something for me. The beautiful things I see, the experience, and the joy are worth my risks. Your cigarettes aren't providing you anything but a shorter life. I age one day at a time, and you age two at a time."

Okay. Even the snarky comment made sense. I'm not sure I could breathe well enough to bike a long distance.

"There are 'tools' for quitting smoking. If you need any, let me know. They may make it worse. They may not work, at all. They may make you feel VERY depressed, but they do exist, and I can get them for you."

He almost made that sound irresistible, but I'm gonna do a hard pass. Depression sucks, and it isn't something I want to deal with by choice. Seeing as how I clearly struggle to remain calm, I'm going to refrain from such "tools".

"They also have those electronic cigarettes things. I hear you can control the nicotine. The trouble is that I have seen people actually increase their nicotine intake while using them. It's still poison, and it puts poison in your blood, but if you used it to lower your nicotine habit, it may work. Unless, of course, you get one that blows your face off."

My morning was as usual (those of you who read my other writings know that my mornings are pretty hectic), only I had a visit with my doctor at 8:15, which meant getting up earlier. (Yes, I can do it, if I have to.) I always put my makeup on when I visit this doctor. I don't do this because I want to look good. I do this because I need to look 'well', and Lord knows... When I don't wear makeup, I hear things like... you must be exhausted, and many other flattering statements. You see, I don't just look tired. Some people have a resting a bitch face, and, well, I have a resting sad face. It's really unfortunate because I'm not ALWAYS sad. Take my sad face and add some dark circles? It's just not my best look for convincing someone that I am mentally well, even though, it is my natural look. Thanks, life!

I see this doctor for general health, and he is also the person that runs the show for the taming of my anxiety. At the current time, and for a while now, we do this with a mild sleeping pill. Apparently, when one sleeps appropriately, they function better. Imagine that! Haha! I had let my refills expire, and I needed more medicine. The receptionist, which acted like I was requesting some crazy drug, wouldn't transfer me to his nurse, and she informed me that I needed an appointment for such things. So, I made one.

My doctor isn't your normal doctor, he is very blunt. VERY BLUNT. He is also about seventy. One can't be sensitive and see this doctor. Luckily for me, I find him very humorous, and I feel that truth is truth. (To be honest, with his rudeness and all, he has helped me tremendously!) He once told me, while comparing my life to the structure of a house, that my husband was simply a pool in the yard. Apparently, husbands and pools are extra things that one doesn't necessarily need. Haha! I hadn't been complaining, I was simply over-stressed, and he was making sure it wasn't at my husband's hand. He also compared my old job to a toxic poison, and requested that I just stay home, claiming that being poor is just sometimes the better choice. Isn't lack of money a stressor? A big one?

Anyway, I made it on time. I sat in the Jeep for a moment. I always dread these visits, but I do like him as a doctor, so I keep going. Plus, if I run out of sleeping pills, on an insomnia night? My poor husband has to deal with it. He claims I go on rants about life problems. Apparently, they start with... "And you know what else?!"... as if he can hear my thoughts, and knows what I am talking about.

My visit started with the usual weight and blood pressure. Thankfully, I hadn't gained any weight. If I had, he would have addressed it, and I would have had to convince him that I wasn't a stress eater or something of the sort. Yes, this has happened. I believe it was over a five pound weight gain? Maybe less? I had to convince him that I wasn't depressed, just hungry.

The nurse started with her usual questions.

"Do you do regular breast exams?"

Okay. No, I don't. I always say I do, just in case it keeps me from being fondled. Her freezer cold hands, which I was pretty sure left frost bite on my arm, didn't need to be feeling me up. This is NOT the doctor I see for my female exams. So, I told her I did.

"Well, it's not like us married people need to do them. Our husbands will find any lumps as soon as they appear!"

She is laughing and looking reminiscent. Maybe she had a great night the night before? And the night before that? Every night? She must not have THREE kids. It was just getting awkward, and at that point, I was ready for the swap. I was hoping my doctor would be trading her places soon. Where does he find his nurses?

It wasn't long before she was out the door, and my doctor appeared in the room. When he walked in, his statement was as follows:

"So, how are you? How is your stress level? I mean... clearly you are stressed with as many kids that you have, but you should be used to that by now."

Okay. I have three kids. THREE. Yes, they have big age gaps between them. Yes, I'll probably be raising children until I can't walk any longer, but I only have three children. That isn't really a lot, is it?

I informed him of my current situation. I knew he would be proud that I was staying home with my baby, and that the insanely awful job I had was a thing of my past. He is not a fan of working mothers. Not even a little. He is very old school, and has mentioned to me several times that he and his wife never once had a babysitter, and that he worked his A off to provide, so she could stay home with their babies. (I'm guessing he only had two, because clearly having three is the equivalent to a small army in his eyes.) Mix being a working mother and a job that was emotionally abusive? Man, I used to really hear about it. He once made me take a medical leave from both of my jobs, so I could 'rest' and 'think about priorities'. I did those things, but going from 100mph to 1mph? Oh, it was rough, and it gave me lots of time to think about things, including the amount of pay I was out.

"Very good. Very good. I saw you out and about, and I saw your new baby. You seemed to be doing well. I called in your medicine for you. I didn't need to see you today."

That receptionist. What a c-word! She was probably just mad because I was right, and she was wrong. I tried to tell her I was just needing a mild sleeping pill, nothing crazy. I also tried to speak with his nurse. Thanks, lady, for making me pay $80.00 for nothing. It's cool. I didn't need that money. I mean... living on one income is EASY. 🙄

"Still smoking?"

The dreaded question. It makes me feel so weak. I informed him that I was.

"How much?"

This question is always worse than the first, especially when you are failing miserably. I told him that my smoking had increased, quite a bit, since I stopped my "as needed" anxiety medicine. (Another thing, that I expected him to be proud of.)

"So, you stop taking a very small dose of medicine, and now you inhale twice as much poison. Well, it's all poison, but the poison of your choice is the worst of the two."

Why I look for this man's approval is beyond me. I'm guessing it is because I really like him, and I generally understand that he is correct. Regardless, I am too scared to take multiple medicines. I don't like it, and I'm not going backwards. Well, backwards in my eyes, not his. I told him that wanted to quit smoking.

"Okay, I have a new rant. If you have heard it before, you are going to hear it again. Accountability. That is my approach to this. When you smoke, you do nothing else, but smoke. No phones. No talking. No walking around. You sit there, and you smoke the whole thing. For every cigarette, you will be aware of what you are doing."

This. This is why I go to him. It's a rather brilliant idea, if you think about it.

"If you are smoking and the phone rings, you answer it, and you tell them you will call them back after your cigarette. It doesn't matter who it is, you tell them that."

Haha! I can see how this could become pretty tacky. Who does that? Let's say I get a call from my daughter's school. Do I really say: Hold on. I'm smoking, I'll deal with this when I'm finished. Give me about three minutes.

"You see I do something dangerous. I ride my bike all over the place. I was in an accident that almost killed me. The difference, besides the fact that I can breathe to ride a bike and you can't, is that my dangerous is doing something for me. The beautiful things I see, the experience, and the joy are worth my risks. Your cigarettes aren't providing you anything but a shorter life. I age one day at a time, and you age two at a time."

Okay. Even the snarky comment made sense. I'm not sure I could breathe well enough to bike a long distance.

"There are 'tools' for quitting smoking. If you need any, let me know. They may make it worse. They may not work, at all. They may make you feel VERY depressed, but they do exist, and I can get them for you."

He almost made that sound irresistible, but I'm gonna do a hard pass. Depression sucks, and it isn't something I want to deal with by choice. Seeing as how I clearly struggle to remain calm, I'm going to refrain from such "tools".

"They also have those electronic cigarettes things. I hear you can control the nicotine. The trouble is that I have seen people actually increase their nicotine intake while using them. It's still poison, and it puts poison in your blood, but if you used it to lower your nicotine habit, it may work. Unless, of course, you get one that blows your face off."