Visits

A glass of wine should be a prerequisite before annual gynecological visits. I've had these visits for years but still haven't gotten used to them yet. The most recent visit was made a year in advance so you'd think I was anxiety-free. I should have postponed this one. My allergies have been brutal this summer. My usual pill in the morning, a pill at night and a nasal squirt here and there usually allows me to be okay.
Not this time.
I was sneezing as soon as I signed in. Sneezing in the waiting area. I think the folks waiting were worried that I had something contagious and needed to wear a mask.
"Allergy season," I offered between sneezes. Sara (well she looked to be that old) looked like she didn't believe me, which was fine because it was hard for me to believe someone her age would still be required to lay back and put her feet in those little contraptions for an exam.
Unfortunately, the nurse was on time.
"Mrs. Jackson", she smiled as she welcomed me back.
"How are you today?" she continued.
I would be great if I didn't have to come here today. 
"I'm fine. Hope you are?" I lied.
"Doing great! Thanks for asking. Are there any changes in your health or any questions; concerns for the doctor today? she asked.
"Is there any possible way to get exempt from this exam or get modifications?" I laughed but was so serious.
As she prepared to get my blood pressure, she laughed too.
"Your blood pressure is a little higher than last time."
"I've got a little normal anxiety with this exam." It's always a little elevated when I see white lab coats, specimen catchers, stirrups that aren't at the bottom of pants, silver instruments, modified gowns, and crinkly white paper I have to lay on.
She kindly patted my shoulder, directed me to do the usual: get fully undressed, put the gown on and wait for the doctor.
I reached for a magazine but he and the nurse had the nerve to be professional and timely as usual and come in to get started.
Sneezing started up again. Not good.
He started but had to stop a few times while I sneezed.
"Whoa! You okay?" he asked at one point.
"YES!" I said loudly, trying to cover the slipped, involuntary flatulence that sometimes occurs when I sneeze uncontrollably. I was so embarrassed.
Finally finished and dressed he did have good news! I was eligible to get exams every three years now!!!!
Maybe a postrequisite glass of wine?

Another Doctor's Visit

This blog could actually just be posts about our son's trips to the doctor. I have quite a few posts about that on here over the years. The posts started when he was about five. He's 14 and the stories haven't stopped.

After being sick, mostly sore throat, I took him to the doctor. If he misses school he is definitely not feeling well. Before I could press the last number to make an appointment the questions began. Already expecting it, I put my hand up to cut him off while I accepted the time given over the phone.

"They aren't gonna do that thing where they swab my throat are they?" Coughing, he added, "If that's the plan, I'm good. That's not gonna work for me."

What did that mean? I thought.

"They do that to test for strep and I don't think you have strep," I lied told him. "I'll bet your throat is just sore from coughing so much."

A few minutes after checking in, the registration associate called me back up to the desk.

"I'm sorry but I noticed that he hasn't had his annual physical?" I explained that he had s sports' physical. She explained that it wasn't a complete physical. She then told me they could go on and do his physical since he was there.

Uh oh. "Okay!"

He heard all of it. "I came because I'm sick! And you know I told you and Daddy that I don't want to have a female doctor to examine me."
He was on edge. He continued with statements or questions- unsure what they were. He was correct about wanting to change physicians. After his male physician retired, he told us that. He had just started having the "big boy" physicals.

"Am I gonna have to get shots?" "Naw. You've had all your shots. You're good." I lied assured him.

When they called him back I went with him. I had to give him the eyebrows to make sure he cooperated. The nurse asked him to fill out a screener. He was on the other side of the room by choice so I did not see his answers.
"Okay, mom do you have any concerns for the doctor today?" He vigorously shook his head. Then she told him what he didn't want to hear, after going over his symptoms. That she needed to swab his tonsils.
"My mom told me y'all weren't gonna do that today." I smiled and giggled, "You are so silly, you know I don't know. I'm not a doctor."
She was able to get something on the third try.
"Okay. The doctor will be in in a few minutes."
"You're not gonna stay in here are you? Before I could answer he asked another question. "I still need y'all to find me a male doctor."

The doctor came in. "I'm a little concerned about you," she said.
Oh no, I thought, the lab results are back already.
"You answered on the screener that you weren't happy?"
"I'm not happy."
"Why? she asked.
"I had to come here to get my throat poked and now I gotta take my clothes off. AND I still don't know for sure if I gotta get shots." he barked.

OMG. The doctor thought he was depressed.

Allergies?

Feeling embarrassed. How did I not know our oldest has severe allergic reactions to graham crackers. 
Let me tell you how I found out.
So I'm sitting with two other moms at our daughters' tennis match, and during a break, before they transitioned to doubles I see the players petting an onlooker's puppy.

"Oh no," I commented. "She's gonna mess around and rub her eyes after rubbing that puppy and start sneezing."

"So what is she allergic to?" one mom asked me.

"Well she has seasonal allergies mostly but she can be sensitive to pet hair sometimes too," I answered.

"What about graham crackers?" she asked.

"Naw. Not graham crackers," I chuckled. What in the world, I thought. That's a weird question.

Moment of silence. Then,

"Oh my gosh, I felt so bad! My daughter said she shared some cheesecake I made with some of the girls on the team and she said your daughter had a reaction to the graham cracker crust," she informed me.

She said my daughter, told her daughter that she'd "better be glad she didn't have to pull her epi-pen out."

What!!!!

She's good. She's really good. But why didn't she just say she didn't like it.

Was the Prayer Answered?

A few years ago we kept a family prayer box.
Our daughter was probably in fourth grade and our son was in second.

We told them that they could write down anything and place it in the box and we would all pray over the box and share if/when the prayers were answered. "Ask God for anything and thank God for anything," I encouraged them.

I felt like this would allow them to say what was on their little hearts freely, knowing no one else could see what they wrote AND see how real God is when prayers were answered. This would encourage them!

I imagined what they wrote: for a puppy, a new toy, trip somewhere, super birthday party, etc.

Well...

Flash forward and our daughter is a rising junior in high school and our son is a rising freshman!
(When I started this blog he was one and she was three maybe)

We moved a few months ago and I came across the prayer box!

Smiling I sat down and opened it!

Tears came as I gingerly opened each written request.

Then, came one of the most surprisingly honest requests I'd ever seen.

After I read it, a few times, I thought about asking her if the prayer was answered.

Rules

Our daughter is really into Cosplay. We've grown accustomed to receiving packages from China, wigs from local beauty stores and fully, professional looking videos of her, uploaded onto  Musical.ly, by our creative 16-year-old.
But I learned that we need to set some ground rules when Cosplaying.

Recently, we had a visitor. An older, friendly man who was talking with Daddy about life insurance. I introduced myself, and our son and daughter did too before they went off to their rooms.

A few minutes later our daughter, nonchalantly, walks into the kitchen. Dressed in character. A Korean male character. Softly singing in Korean.

Not surprisingly the conversation switched from life insurance to silence.

"What are you looking for?" Daddy asked her as she looked around in the fridge.

Literally taking on the character, she answered in Korean.

"English Maurissa!" Daddy responded.

"Oh!, she laughed. "Do we have any Sushi left?"

You could see the confusion in the man's face. He was puzzled but seemed to come up with the explanation.

 "Do you all have an exchange student living with you?"

Nah. But it sure seems like it sometimes.

Stuck!

Got stuck today.
Not in traffic.
Not in an elevator.

Got stuck in my clothes!

I was running late for a doctor's appointment today. Needed to use the bathroom but no time. The office wasn't too far away.

Traffic was a little slow but got there with a few minutes to spare.

Checked in and hurried to the bathroom.

I'd received wonderful compliments from coworkers earlier about my black jumpsuit.

It was cute but not so much in that bathroom stall.

Why did I buy a jumpsuit with buttons that didn't go all the way down??

I'm walking around in that small stall trying to get the suit down, like a puppy chasing its tail. Then I heard a toilet flush.
This made it worse! Thought I was in there alone.
After a few more stumbles and turns, I heard another flush.

Another person! Oh gosh!

Finally, I was able to get the suit down without ripping it. Another flush!

Realized I was the only one in there... it was an automated toilet. All that movement created flushes.

Finally got myself suited situated and back to the waiting area.

"Oh there you are!" the receptionist said, just as I sat down. "We were worried about ya. Everything okay?"

I just nodded, smiled and wiped the sweat from my head.

Bet I burned at least 50 calories in that bathroom.

Memory

My memory isn't what it used to be but it was pretty good when I was younger. Spending summers at my Godmother's house helped with that. We really referred to our mornings as prison time. Her daughter would cook oatmeal; regular oatmeal. I can still see that little Quaker dude on the box. At eight or nine, he seemed to grin at me while I tried to eat it. We were not allowed to leave the table until we ate our food. Being the leader I was at that time, I showed the others how to gradually put chunks of the lumpy stuff in a napkin. Then, once the warden she left the kitchen the third time, run and put the full napkins behind the curtain. We'd go back before lunch to dispose of it. Needed good memory to do that. Should've had common sense too. Doing that made her think we liked the stuff.

But my memory, at that age, has nothing on our daughter's memory at fifteen. While attending our son's school Open House for rising freshman recently, I also spoke to one of our daughter's current teachers.

"How is she doing in your class so far?" I asked him, shaking his hand.

"She's doing pretty well. She still has to do the presentation, but it's been hard for her with losing her voice and all."

Speechless.

"She was out for the three days when she was sick and it's been difficult for her to talk. The hoarseness has been bad. Feel bad for her."

Yes. You should feel bad for her. I thought.

I was hoping my face did not reflect what I was thinking.

He informed me that she could do the alternative which would be to take a test in place of the presentation. He seemed genuinely sorry for her.

When we got home I told her about the blind-sided conversation.

"Momma, you didn't tell him that I didn't lose my voice did you?"

Speechless again.

Her memory- much better than mine. She actually remembered to change her voice each time she went to that class. And it was believable.

"You may want to look into theater arts. You're good!"

"Well, actually, I-" she began.

"I wasn't serious!" I assured her.