As I explained to the receptionist at the doctor's office whom I have known forever. She was amused. Really, when you're one of me, you've always got something to think about.Let's see. How can I explain the results of my doctors' visits without getting too graphic? Oh, I'll try this:
There is nothing wrong with me.
This is something of an exaggeration, because I suffer from the typical effects of being 53 years old and having what family history I have. Let's just say there is nothing acutely wrong with me that I didn't particularly have before. In other words, I can go have a bone scan but the doctor doesn't anticipate negative results, I am exactly where a 53 year old woman should be in terms of menopause (which would be swell if I had started it at 51, like a normal person, but whatever), I have some new sort of sleeping medication to try, and I got a prescription for that thing that lets you not spend all day and night in the bathroom. So there.
I nearly plotzed when I had to get on the scale in both offices. My regular doctor, being a man and so he can't help it, actually said out loud "You gained fifteen pounds?" Thanks, doc. Yes, I did. Looked in a mirror lately?
(But he redeemed himself when we talked about my father, who, you know, was the Ultimate Champion in dark humor, and so would always say, when the doctor asked how he was, "I'm dying!" or some such remark, which I guess is not funny if you're the man's doctor. Anyway, he mentioned today what a nice man Jack was, which he was, but I never thought the doctor so much "got him" in life. So that was nice.)
Here's the medical highlight of the day. The lady-doctor -- who is, in fact, a lady lady-doctor -- said something about how you can be on hormone replacement therapy basically forever, unless you happen to be a person who is genetically pre-disposed to develop a vascular blockage, in which case, you probably shouldn't take it because you could just have a stroke and drop dead. Hmmm. Interesting choice there. I could have a family history of cardiovascular disease -- which I do -- but it might not be related to vein blockages, in which case, forget I said anything. Or not. This doctor also went into a whole thing about people living longer, and women my age being likely to live to 90 and so on, and I'm thinking I'm not so interested in being 90 anyway, because the odds of my being 90 and in perfect health are fairly astronomical since I'm not in perfect health now. Not to mention that the odds of there being enough health care services for all the baby boomers are pretty slim. Bet our parents didn't think of that when they were cranking us all out after the war.
So I'm apparently cleared -- nay, encouraged -- to do any kind of exercise I want, so I suppose I must begin to do just that. I've been walking in the halls at school again; that's a start. Should I join the gym, or is that as foolish as it sounds? (Not because it's foolish to join a gym, but it's certainly foolish for me to join if I never go.) I'm thinking that I will look into it when R moves out, I guess because I'll have less to occupy me at home at that point. (That doesn't sound like it makes sense either, but somehow, it does.) I may also have the option of the new recreation center that's being built in town, and which looks nearly finished, although that may mean nothing. This is the giant boondoggle that sucked all the money out of the town so people keep voting down the school budget; the town already raised taxes to pay for the rec center and who wants taxes raised more? (Enough of that rant.) I know the new building has an indoor walking track in it; maybe they'll have yoga classes, too, which is all I really want from the gym: a beginner's yoga class and a treadmill or easy exercise bike. The problem with the rec center, though, is that you're pretty well assured of running into people you know every damn time you go, a real drawback for me. Not that the gym isn't here in Bizarro Town too, but its clientele aren't limited to townspeople. I didn't run into people I knew much when I belonged last time.
I guess I have to go back to work tomorrow. (From time to time, people in school will see me in the office or someplace and they have a book to return and want to give it to me to take for them and they ask "Oh, are you going back to the library?" and I always answer "Yes. I have to." or "Yes. They make me go there.") It's the last day of midterms, so the Chum and I are going out to lunch and meeting E, who was the third member of our triumvirate until she retired -- could it be five years ago? -- and whom we rarely get to see because her retirement years are spent exclusively with her grandchildren, of whom there are currently eight or nine, and traveling. I understand she has a trip planned to South American and Antarctica. This is your basic matzo-ball making, sweater-knitting Jewish grandma, and she's thinking of going to Anarctica. I'll let you know.
