I went in to the Body Shop yesterday, for what I thought was going to be just a little bit of routine maintenance.
No, not THAT body shop, the body shop for MY body. I went to see my family doctor.
I go to the eye doctor faithfully once a year.
I go to the dentist regularly twice a year.
I go to the gynecologist routinely once a year.
I have a physical exam with my family doctor every year.
I have all needed vaccinations and follow up appointments as scheduled.
I have a dermatologist check me once each year.
I endure a mammogram every year.
I survive a colonoscopy every five years like a good girl.
I take all prescribed medicines and vitamins on a precise and regular schedule.
You see, I've always felt it's better to be proactive and prevent health catastrophes than to try and clean up the messes and treat them after they have had a chance to happen.
Of course, ultimately some health happenings are simply beyond our control, and that's a given.
So. Yesterday I went in for my annual physical exam. I was feeling pretty good about my state of maintenance in general when I went in.
Recently I had seen the eye doctor, had a favorable eye exam, and ordered new glasses. I was liking the way they looked on my face every time I looked in the mirror.
Recently I had been to the dentist, again receiving a positive report and needing no cavities filled.
Recently I had passed the one year mark following my achilles surgery, and feeling pretty good down there in my heel, I had started a workout program again. Finally.
But. After an hour that included peeing in a cup, giving numerous vials of blood, having both my ears experience a tsunami-like flushing, and being poked and prodded in and on every other part of my body, I have come home feeling like one sick puppy.
That one office appointment spawned FIVE other medical appointments, just "to check on things." These other specialists are now added to the team of my current Body Maintenance crew.
I don't know whether to think I am healthy, or perhaps very sick, indeed.
I suppose I could imagine the whole deal is a money making scam by the health industry, but I have to blame this all on my self. When the doctor asked if I have "any other concerns," there I went and asked some questions. And, lo and behold, I'm being sent all over tarnation now. My fault. Perhaps I must just learn to ignore those little health issues that niggle at me and make me worry that something could possibly be wrong.
The hubby has quite a whole different perspective on it all. His comment to me, after my detailed report of my experience: "Wow, and all that for just $10. What a deal!" (We have great medical insurance.)
I wanted to kill him.