srah blah blah

An apple a day...

Today is my day of doctors' appointments. Oh joy.

I started out the day at 8:50 with a trip to the dentist. I pulled up, went into the building, and got into the frighteningly bright yellow elevator. These are the times I wish I had a digital camera. I always feel like I'm going crazy in that elevator and today was no exception. I got in and was given a choice between two floors: 1 and LL. Since the dentist's office is upstairs, I decided that that would be 1. I pushed it and nothing happened. The doors didn't close, so I decided it was just slow to react. I waited until they closed and pushed it again. They opened. Then I was confused. I knew that I took this elevator every time I came to the dentist's office. And I knew that the dentist's office was upstairs from the lobby. Did they change the elevator? Did they move the second floor to the basement without making the building look any different from the outside?

No. Srah is just stupid. The dentist's office is downstairs, and it always has been.

I arrived and went in with the dental hygienist. Blah blah blah I'm going to France, blah blah teaching assistant, blah blah more nervous than excited, actually blah blah blah no housing yet. She took a million x-rays, with the lovely bitey-films that cut into your mouth. She looked in there and said I was brushing too hard and my toothbrush was too firm. She says anything firmer than "soft" should only be used for cleaning bathrooms. So there, go check what you're using and fix it. Otherwise you'll "brush right through your teeth", she said. However you do that. Then I drooled all over myself, then she told me I had mild gingivitis.

Ugh. It's such an ugly word, gingivitis. I wouldn't blame you if you never read my weblog again. I wouldn't want to read the weblog of someone with gingivitis, mild or not. So I have to floss more often. Which, in my case, could mean I have to floss more often than twice a year, on the day I have a dentist appointment. Aren't you disgusted by my oral hygiene? Leave, I won't blame you.

After the dentist, it was a mad dash across town to the ophthalmologist for my 10 o'clock appointment. I made it to the Reichert Building at 10:05, went in, and saw the enormous crowd for the elevator. One of the three elevators wasn't working and the other two were slow and stopping at every floor, whether they needed to or not. An elevator came, but it was full by the time I got to it. I decided to wait for the next one. As I waited, I looked around at the other potential elevatees. The average age was about 80. About 40 of the 1000 people waiting (possibly some slight exaggeration there) were in wheelchairs. The other elevator was on floor 5, going up. I was never going to make it upstairs, especially if I was a good citizen and left space in the elevator for the elderly and infirm. So I went up the stairs.

I was already late and only getting later, so I ran up the stairs.

First floor? Easy as pie.

Second floor? Run run run.

Third floor? Hop skip and a jump. Boy, I must be in better shape than I thought. I'm so silly sometimes, thinking I'm not in shape. I do plenty of walking, from my room to the living room and all. I'm in great shape.

Fourth floor? What? I can't hear you. The blood is rushing too hard in my ears. And I believe my lung has fallen out.

I was running and running, and thinking what a great workout I was getting. Wow, three floors, and I wasn't remotely tired. Then when I hit the fourth floor, I started dying and had to drag myself up to the sixth. I arrived in the doctor's office, puffing and panting and not sure if I was going to survive. Puffing and panting, I gave my name to the receptionist. Puffing and panting, I sat down and read a story in Reader's Digest about Saddam Hussein. My name was called, and puffing and panting, I dragged myself to the examining room. Puffing and panting, I sat down in the seat.

Ah. A nice rest. All I had to do was tell the nice lady which picture was blurry and which was sharp, get my eye numbed and poked with a blue light, and blah blah blah about le Lycée V. Larbaud and its optometry studies and how kids here don't have enough career guidance.

Then I got to sit in the waiting room while I waited for Mommy, and read half of a Reader's Digest's story about adopting a child from a foreign country (isn't there one of those in every issue?). The other half was missing, so I'll never know what became of Charthy or whatever her name was.

This afternoon, I'm off to the detested doctor's office to find out if I have allergy problems. Yippee.

srah - Tuesday, 3 September 2002 - 1:21 PM
Tags: dentist, doctor, health, ophthalmologist

Trackback Pings

TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.srah.net/mt421/mt-pings.cgi/1279