Going to the doctor...
I hate going to the doctor. Not just because of the germ infested waiting room filled with hypochondriacs, wheezing old ladies and flea infested snot faced toddlers.. toddlers that always zone in on me and start showing me their book of dinosaurs, while their mum sits comfortably reading Woman's Own and talking loudly on her mobile phone.. that is supposed to be turned off.. by the way!
I hate going to the doctor because it makes me feel like a failure. I probably go a handful of times a year yet I walk in with a look of conspicuousness and guilt.. carrying a book, a stick to fend off the flea infested children, antiseptic all over body wash and a loofer.
I am far from a sickly person. I am Supregirl! I am hardcore when it comes to pain or illness. Going to the doctor shatters that illusion. Although nobody notices but me. I hope!
If I am lucky I get to see my own doctor. A very nice lady that I treat like an old friend and joke way too much with and sound like an idiot for most of the painful visit.
I could go in there Quasimodo style with a hump on my back, a stoop, a half flesh eaten arm, one eyeball popping out of my head, an unidentified growth on my right butt cheek and a limp.. yet still I would tell the doctor I'm feeling fine! Never felt better! After all I am only there to get some drugs for the embarrassing facial twitch that I acquired two days ago!
Then I come out feling grubby.. with a new germ infestation all over my body, a feeling of complete failure, a snot smear on my jeans from a random toddler, a wasted morning.. and an undiagnosed facial twitch!
