High Strung
For the past several months I have had some ongoing health issues. Of late, I have required frequent doctor appointments.
For a number of reasons, including a natural aversion to waiting rooms and, otherwise, being forced to cool my heels unnecessarily, I opt for the first appointment of the day. Thus, I have standing 8:00 a.m. appointments every couple of weeks or so.
[On an aside, I was one of those people in college who also volunteered for 7:30 a.m. classes (even Western Civ) just to get them over with to have my afternoons free for me.]
This morning the Wee Child announced she would like to accompany me.
Because she will not turn five until December or begin Kindergarten until next year, I know the days where she can run around on errands and hang out with me at home on a weekday are numbered.
My baby is growing up and while I cannot stop time, I do try to take advantage of those moments she actually wants to spend with me.
Despite the best laid plans, Murphy conspired against me this morning in the form of a train. The 7:30 iron horse did not arrive until 7:40 which waylayed my arrival at the doctor's office to 8:03.
I hate being late.
I mean, I really hate being late.
Fortunately, doc was behind me and also had to wait on the train.
At 8:10 kind nurse took my blood pressure and it was 20 systolic and 10 diastolic points higher than the last time. When doc came in he looked at that and mumbled something about needing to keep an eye on it.
I explained I was agitated about being late and told him it would be fine.
He smiled and let it go, but asked me if I were eating well, etc.
Before I could respond, the wee child piped up and stated: "Mommy and me (sic) had cake for breakfast, just this morning."
That statement found good old doc looking at me with raised eyebrows.
Rather than make the argument formulating in my head: We were running late and some food, even cake, is better than no food, I merely said: "You want to give me grief about that, then check my blood pressure again?"
He laughed, shook his head, then said: "No, we'll see what happens next time."
So, I'm a little high strung.
What can I say?
For a number of reasons, including a natural aversion to waiting rooms and, otherwise, being forced to cool my heels unnecessarily, I opt for the first appointment of the day. Thus, I have standing 8:00 a.m. appointments every couple of weeks or so.
[On an aside, I was one of those people in college who also volunteered for 7:30 a.m. classes (even Western Civ) just to get them over with to have my afternoons free for me.]
This morning the Wee Child announced she would like to accompany me.
Because she will not turn five until December or begin Kindergarten until next year, I know the days where she can run around on errands and hang out with me at home on a weekday are numbered.
My baby is growing up and while I cannot stop time, I do try to take advantage of those moments she actually wants to spend with me.
Despite the best laid plans, Murphy conspired against me this morning in the form of a train. The 7:30 iron horse did not arrive until 7:40 which waylayed my arrival at the doctor's office to 8:03.
I hate being late.
I mean, I really hate being late.
Fortunately, doc was behind me and also had to wait on the train.
At 8:10 kind nurse took my blood pressure and it was 20 systolic and 10 diastolic points higher than the last time. When doc came in he looked at that and mumbled something about needing to keep an eye on it.
I explained I was agitated about being late and told him it would be fine.
He smiled and let it go, but asked me if I were eating well, etc.
Before I could respond, the wee child piped up and stated: "Mommy and me (sic) had cake for breakfast, just this morning."
That statement found good old doc looking at me with raised eyebrows.
Rather than make the argument formulating in my head: We were running late and some food, even cake, is better than no food, I merely said: "You want to give me grief about that, then check my blood pressure again?"
He laughed, shook his head, then said: "No, we'll see what happens next time."
So, I'm a little high strung.
What can I say?
posted by Feisty at 7:12 AM
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