A few weeks ago I realized I needed a little “taking care of me” time, so I decided to spoil myself. That’s right, I made an appointment for my annual exam.
While I wasn’t thrilled about everything that was about to happen, I did look forward to seeing my old friends. You see, I don’t do pregnancy the easy way. I’ve had some high-maintenance fetuses. With Pink, I spent the last few months going to the doctor at least three times a week, and hanging out there for awhile while they did all kinds of fun tests. Yes, I know the nurses, the doctors (I saw them all) — heck, I’m even on a first-name basis with some of the machines. So, see, a reunion sounded kind of fun.
I walked into the lobby with a big smile on my face, ready to be greeted with surprise and enthusiasm. But the moment I set foot in the door, I realized something was off. The usually overflowing waiting room was absolutely empty. A quick glance at the wall and I realized they’d moved down the hall to a bigger space. Without bothering to run the decision by me.
I took a deep breath, and started over. Big smile. Door open. But with the new space came a bunch of new faces. Not a single one seemed to know — or care — who I was. Everything, it seems, had changed. Even the cup the receptionist handed me to pee in was different.
As I waited for my name to be called, I couldn’t help but feel a bit, well, replaced. My (soft) rounded belly lacked purpose, and beauty. Nurses walked through waving and saying quick hellos to the women all around me. One lady even got a squeal and a hug. Me? I got my toe stepped on. And my nose out of joint.
Finally I saw my doctor from afar. Not the one I had the appointment with that day, mind you. Getting on his schedule takes months. But this guy, he’s the best. And there was no doubt in my mind that at least he’d be happy to see me. But he didn’t see me. No matter how I tried to catch his eye. (And when you’re not pregnant, your body can do some pretty impressive things in a small space when you’re desperate for attention.) Hmmpht.
The moment my buddy was safely tucked into a room with a patient, a newbie nurse called my name. She even had the nerve to make me get on a scale (that was obviously stuck on the number from when I was 6 months pregnant with Pink). I timidly followed her into the room, put the paper gown on, and waited to see one of the other doctors I frequented when I was The Only Pregnant Woman in the World. She’d do at this point.
But when she walked in, she introduced herself. Introduced herself. As if it weren’t bad enough that there wasn’t the slightest flicker of recognition, she didn’t believe me when I said I practically paid their rent in 2011. “Hmm, that’s strange. Your file is empty. Are you sure?”
Um, yeah. I’m pretty damn sure.
“Oh, I see, they started you a new file since your last one was full.” Yes, full. As in I paid your rent. And you don’t even recognize me. Above the waist, at least.
She was in and out (no pun intended) in a matter of minutes, and the whole ordeal was over. But, truth be told, it hurt a little bit.
This post was inspired by Project: Underblog’s April link up. The Underblog Collective theme this month was Humor/Foolishness. To check out other posts or to link one of yours, click the button below.