Oh my goodness!
Such a taboo subject, right? Well, whatever.
We all have to go, don't we? Well... Okay, not all of us.
The best word I can use to describe such an experience is uncomfortable.
We've all been there -- Will the immensely pregnant woman next to me judge me for reading parenting magazines, even if that's all they provide in the waiting room? Why do they only have 8 chairs but 22 people waiting for their dreaded turn, as if seeing The Lady Doctor means winning some sort of age-restricted lottery? Will the receptionist announce my social security number and personal health history information as loudly as she did last year?
My annual visit was yesterday, and I was less than psyched. Who IS psyched to visit The Lady Doctor? As I'm kept waiting for what seems like hours, I find myself wondering if I have enough time to slip down and casually grab one of the pamphlets they've placed strategically around the room, and if so, will Doc think I've got something hideous going on?
I wonder if Doc will judge me for wearing Victoria's Secret undies -- as opposed to Haynes Her Way -- which I've tried to stealthily hide underneath my yoga pants and my sweater.
I wonder if Doc will comment on my weight or my blood pressure readings, or the fact that my face has turned 70 different shades of red.
I wonder why the walls are paper-thin and whether the teenager and her slouch-pantsed boyfriend smacking his gum in the next room over are scared or excited, and whether they can hear my conversations with Doc like I can hear theirs.
In the end, I know I'm doing way too much wondering. As one of my favorite expressions goes, "It is what it is." After all, I only have to see The Lady Doctor once a year, and I'm always grateful for a clean bill of health. So how bad are things, really? :) Ta ta!
P.S. Do you completely dread seeing Doc, or are you comfortable? Do you ever experience White Coat Syndrome?