Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Honesty in the Doctor's Office

I had a routine wellness check nearly a month ago. 
You know, the kind where they ask for your blood, urine, time, patience, insurance card and father's grandfather's uncle's health history. 

I told the doctor that I thought he was healthy but passed at age 30. 

World War I really took a toll on the young, healthy guys. 

I was asked to sit alone in a quiet, cold room and proofread five pages of contact information followed by eight pages of health history. 

How many times should I need to write my last name, middle initial and first name for one appointment, do you think?

How many times did I write "Bowman" rather than "Sankey"? 

Perhaps year five is the ticket.

Then I moved into the health history questionnaire. 

Every year prior, I've breezed through this bad boy like a college student who knew they were going to pass the class without regard to how they did on the final.
All answers were - proudly - marked NO.

This time was different. 

This was the first time in a while that I was 

1. Alone
2. Not in my car
3. Not in the shower
4. Completely focused on me. 

This time I took the wellness survey quite seriously. 

Do you have an existing and/or recent problem with:

Please explain all answers marked YES.

Insomnia: YES

I haven't slept in 9 months

Daytime drowsiness: YES

I think not sleeping in 9 months may have something to do with this. 

Recent weight gain/loss in the last 6 months: YES

I've teetered between the same 30 lbs. for the last nine months. 
I eat a slab of rocky road nightly in hopes to bounce back into my pre-pregnancy jeans. They're my favorites and GAP stopped making them. 

Sensitive ears: YES

There was a time in my life when I lived one block from railroad tracks and I never once heard the (4) night trains. 
Today I can hear Mike Craig's (neighbor) cows bawl and I can also hear Caroline's toes wiggle. I can hear clouds move. Make it stop. 

Shortness of breath when walking with other people 
at an ordinary pace on level ground: YES
Have you ever tried to push a stroller through mud while carrying a 5-gallon bucket of feed?
I didn't think so. 

Wheezing that interferes with your job: YES
See above. 

Heartburn that is not related to eating: YES

11 months of the 2016 Election

Pain in abdomen: YES

26 hours of labor. 
Thought I was tough. 
She's healthy and strong and it all worked out. 

Pain in neck: YES

My brother

Numbness in limbs: YES
Sometimes when CJ (thats my daughter, not my husband) falls asleep in the recliner with me I wake up and can't feel or move my arms. 

Wondering if life is worth it: YES

In the last week I have stubbed the same ingrown toenail on the same coffee table in the 5:15 AM darkness. Twice. 

I submitted my clipboard to the nurse and took a cat nap on the paper table lining while she and her team analyzed my honesty. 

The doctor came in the room six short minutes (I was counting on a 30-minute snooze) later. 

She held on to her stethoscope like it was a necklace and crossed her legs like a friend leaning in for a really raw chat. 
"How are you, Lindsay?"
"I'm well," I responded without thought. 
She leaned in like a sister that knew too much. 
"I have a seven-month-old at home and it's bull sale season.....Travel season for my husband," I responded without prompt. "And we're calving."
She smiled. 
"You need to get that baby to bed earlier. Take daily walks. And shut off your phone after 9:00 every night."

Three instructions. 

No drugs. 

I walked out of the doctor's office wondering if I was a hypochondriac.

Then I quietly assured myself:

Not a hypochondriac, I'm a mother.

Thursday, February 16, 2017

Reasons to Wear Perfume

For the first time since I became a mother, today I’m wearing perfume.

It is not for a special occasion, special person or special day, but rather, very ordinary events that unraveled my morning well before the beautiful sunrise struck Indiana.

I came in contact with the feces from three species before 6:30 AM: bovine, feline and Caroline. Because of this, I’m wearing my fourth outfit of the day – hopefully my final. Until I get home tonight and have to feed cattle, again. Hopefully, after that: pajamas. Six changes of clothes in 12 hours isn’t bad for someone not in diapers. Right?

For the record, CJ is on outfit number three and I 
packed four more to cover the next eight hours. 

I have this strange smell of amoxicillin and acid reflux swirling around me, and despite holding strands of my hair under the bathroom sink faucet and using Bath & Body Works White Citrus hand soap as shampoo, I can’t seem to get rid of it. I have two strategically placed bobby pins in my hair holding back certain parts that have dried, not clean, but crusty. I did a spray-and-run of Lysol and perfume before leaving the house to cover all germs and smells. 

After giving CJ her infant Tylenol, I licked my fingers, rather than wash them, hoping that the sweet relief she gets from the stuff will somehow alleviate the pain her mother recognizes as “Thursday”.  Despite the .05 mL of drugs ingested, I can still feel the pain.

On the way to daycare I asked CJ to behave, to be kind, to take a nap and to eat her food. She promised fifty-percent. That’s the most I can hope for from a 7-month-old. At least she’s honest.

I listened to praise music on full blasters all the way to work because I figured it was the only way to keep myself from cussing the morning; it’s hard to say bad words when worship music is filling your ears. I came into the co-op parking lot on two wheels, leftover Mexican food in one hand, computer bag in the other, stopping every three feet to check the bottoms of my shoes. Something was lingering and it wasn’t amoxicillin, acid reflux, Lysol or perfume.

Damn barn cats.