I now declare all flu/cold/plague and/or pink eye and/or foot pain gone! That's right, I woke up this morning feeling like a human again. My voice is back, the phlegm is gone, no more oozing eyeballs. I'm cured! Thank goodness. I had a couple of doctor's appointments today. The first was a follow up with the Podiatrist. Do you know what my podiatrist's nickname is? You'll never guess. It's Doctor Rock! How do I know this? it is plastered all over the walls of his office. There are concert tickets and signed programs from bands like Berlin. (Please don't ask me who Berlin is, like the nineteen year old girl I work with. I feel old enough already) Apparently he is the drummer in some sort of band that plays at the Coach House all the time. That's where we saw Flock of Seagulls last St. Patrick's Day. He's really funny. He said to call him if I have more problems with my foot, but not tonight because he has a show. Like I would need to call him. I got a shot in the foot today. I have one word to say about it. OUCH. Actually, I got two shots in the foot. Double Ouch. It was quite uncomfortable while he was doing it, but I'll tell you what, I'm feeling no pain now, and that's a good thing. The pain had not been getting better, despite the wearing of the fashionable hiking boots. The only bummer is, I still have to wear them. I better get used to them, because I have to wear them at least another month, until my next visit. If I am still having pain, I will have to wear the lovely boot until it heals. After I visited Dr. Rock, I had to go to the lab for my monthly bloodwork and urine specimen drop off. On a monthly basis I have to collect twenty four hour's worth of urine. The doctor provides me with this attractive,inconspicuous container to collect it in. I have to take it everywhere I go for 24 hours. To work, to the store, to doctor's appoinments, you get the idea. Because I want to be discreet(there's nothing like a group of five year olds saying very loudly "What IS that?") I carry the attractive inconspicuous container in a small duffel type bag. If I have forgotten that bag, I put it in a couple of white grocery bags to conceal it as I lug it from place to place(having kidney disease is fun!) So I get to the medical building today and I realize I have forgotten my duffel bag. That's O.K., I think to myself. I usually have a couple of grocery bags hanging around in my car under the seat or in the back somewhere. Except today. I tore the car apart, and no bags. At this point I'm not sure what to do. I really don't want to carry the attractive, inconspicuous container into the building and in the elevator up six stories. But I have no choice. So I try to carry it as close to my body as possible, in the hopes that no one can tell what it is. The following is an conversation I imagined the other people having in the packed elevator about me as we travelled up six floors. The first part actually occurred.
Nice strangers in elevator: Oops, hold the door, here comes a nice lady.
Me: Oh that's O.K., I'll catch the next one.
Nice strangers in elevator: No, it's fine, you can fit(everyone moves back a step)
Me: (Not really wanting to get into a full elevator, but not wanting to cause a scene either) Ummmm...O.k. sure. I step into elevator, akwardly holding the attractive, inconspicuous container to the side.
The following is where I start making things up.
Nice lady in elevator: Glances at attractive, inconspicuous container. "Hmmmm...I wonder what that is?"
Me: Stare uncomfortably straight ahead
Nice lady in elevator: "It looks to be some sort of collection device."
Me: Stare uncomfortably straight ahead.
Nice lady in elevator: Ewwww...it holds pee! That woman is carrying a bottle of pee! Gross! (takes a step away from me)
Me: Stare uncomfortably straight ahead and start to turn red, thinking to myself "Floor number four? That's it? This is the slowest elevator ever!"
Nice lady in elevator's four year old daughter: "Mommy, what's that?(this part is true)
Me: Ding! Saved by the bell! This is my floor. Whew! I rush the door, almost running into it before it opens.
As the door closes I hear the lady say to her daughter "It's nothing honey."
It's good to be back in the privacy of my own home, with another month's specimen safely delivered to its required destination. Everything's cool. Until next month, that is.