Tuesday, July 10, 2012



After enduring weeks and weeks of intense and a foot feeling like I am walking on a rock, I finally go see my doctor.  She gives me a complete "overhaul."  She takes blood, schedules x-rays, takes, (ahem, clearing throat) uring samples, among a bunch of other horrible stuff.

There are so many things wrong with me that she makes a list, telling me, "Let's start fixing one problem at a time, beginning at the top of the list.  Sounds good to me.  Needless to say, I have to go back and forth to the doctor's office for the next few months.

Starting with the blood test, she discovers that I'm anemic---no wonder I feel tired all the time.  Okay, that's one thing off the list---I'm anemic---but my foot still really hurts.  That is the next problem we address.

Doc schedules a foot x-ray.  I hobble into the x-ray room and the female technician asks, "What are we going to do today?"

I tell her about my foot and point to where it is the "hurtest."

She takes note.  As she is preparing the table for my x-ray, seeing that my doc has scheduled many more tests, she asks what other things are going on with me.

I say, "Well, we just found out that I am anorexic."

She looks me up and down, see that I could easily stand to lose at least 50 lbs., she remarks, "Um . . . I don't think so."

"How do you know?" feeling insulted that I'm not anorexic.

She hesitates, "Um . . ."  She eyeballs me again, then asks, "Um . . . anorexic?"

A light bulb turns on over my head.  "Did I say "anorexic"?  I meant to say "anemic."

To which she quickly responds, "That makes more sense."

How rude.  I don't know if I am more insulted that I'm not anorexic or that I'm anemic.  Both words start with an A---It's so hard for me to keep track of that kind of stuff (Read is South America in South Africa?" below).

LESSON LEARNED:  Don't talk to x-ray technicians

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