What I left out

Have you ever read something you wrote and thought "Geezus H, I left the best part out?"  Hahaha well I did just that last night.  A little more humor and a little more frustration into my day yesterday.  

Here's the humor.  When I was in for X-Rays, they had me up on this table and I had to put my feet in different positions.  I get pretty proud of myself when I have to do these things 'cause for a big girl, I can sure be flexible!  This gal is out there and she's helping me get my feet in the right place and this time I have to really struggle to keep my legs right where she wants me to keep them.  She holds my feet in place and starts to back away with her hands still in place, as if they were still on my feet.  Maybe she thought she had Spidey sense and as long as she didn't take her eyes off of them, they wouldn't move.  

So anyway, I am holding them and hoping she gets back to that lever pretty quickly because it's very uncomfortable and MY DAMN FEET HURT!!  What do you think happens next?  YES!!  You guessed it!!  I farted.  Not a little silent but deadly fart but a fart that reverberated off the glass surface I was sitting on!!  GEEZUS H!!  Seriously, Amelia???  That gal never even blinked (and trust me, I looked right at her when I realized I couldn't stop it).  She just pushed that lever and came back and got her films.  THANK YOU GOD for not letting me eat anything awfully stinky the night before that.  I wanted to run.  As fast as I could.  Which isn't very fast because MY DAMN FEET HURT, but run anyway.  

 So I made it through that.  The gal walked me back to the hallway, probably praying to God that I didn't pass gas when she did my boobie squeeze.  Phew!!!  For the record, I didn't.  I was too worried about my boobies popping open!

Now for some frustration.  The "doctor" that I see isn't a doctor at all.  She's a Physician's Assistant.  I will still refer to her as my doctor because it's easier to type out.  -_-  She has ALWAYS been the best for me.  Always wanted to look into things and find the solution to my problem.  She has always been there for me 100% of the way.  Right up until the second time ago I saw her.  Did that make sense?  I just woke up, forgive me.  Over the past year, I'd say this doctor has lost over 60 lbs.  She was always heavy and then one day she wasn't.  She wasn't HUGE by any means but she was always overweight.  In my opinion, I think overweight doctors are ok because it keeps them grounded.  They realize the struggle the rest of us normal people live with.

So yesterday when she walked in, I couldn't believe how skinny she was.  I said to her "Wow, you are getting younger looking every time I see you."  She did this thing that really irked me.  She got all "girly" on me and said "Oh no, look at my hair.  My roots need done and it needs cut....."  Please bitch, shut the hell up.  I just gave you a huge compliment and that's one I don't hand out too often.  Learned my lesson in case I ever have to see her again.  She won't be my doctor though.  I'm switching to a real doctor.  A skinny doctor that has taken many years for me to love.  I love her because she was great to my momma.  *warm fuzzy feeling right now*

Let me get back on track now.  As you read yesterday; or I hope you read my blog from yesterday (or this is going to make NO sense to you!), this doctor told me that I have no fractures and my feet are "tired of carrying all my weight."  I still can't believe she told me that.  The last two times I have seen this woman, she has asked me if I would be interested in meal replacement shakes that she sells.  I told her I couldn't afford them and that I wanted to do it in a way I could live and shakes are not for me.  Unless they have ice cream in them.  Last time I had lost some weight and told her I was doing Whey Protein shakes (which I was) and she was telling me how I should make them rather than use milk, use water, blah blah blah.  Lady, if this works for me, why would you tell me to change it???

So it frustrates me that ON MY TIME with her as a Physician, she tries to sell me a product.  I have talked this over with my sister Matilda (that's her real name, don't tease) and we both agree that when my insurance is paying for this service, she shouldn't be trying to get her diggs in and making EVEN MORE money off of her clients.  Matilda told me that she does it to a lot of clients she knows, that are overweight.  So yesterday, the good doc says to me "I will just put this card in your purse so you don't lose it and you check it out on the web and then call me.  I will call you after each meal to make sure you are feeling good about what you are doing and keep track of your progress.  You probably won't ever have to take medicine again, like you are now, if you do this." Nice sell doc.

So for those of you that want to check it out, it's called "Take Shape For Life."  She is listed as a Health Coach.  And the best part is yet to come.  It's only $300 a month!  SUPER!!!  SIGN ME UP FOR THREE!!!  Why would I want a doctor that thinks I'm a fat ass to call me after every meal?  So I can tell her I'm still hungry?  And if it's so fucking good for you, why would I feel bad about it?  And now I wonder how many times I have waited in a waiting room because she is talking to one of her "other clients" about their lunch.  Bitch.

I don't believe that a person is going to live the rest of their lives on shakes to continue being healthy.  It's just not human nature.  I need to eat right.  I don't say "learn" to eat right because I know how to eat right.  I have enough books; enough literature; internet access;  I'm not stupid.  (I don't care WHAT you hear on Words with Cheats chat!!)

My impulse is to call the hospital Administration and let them know about this gal pushing her products onto her clients during business time.  I mean, if they were behind it, they would be on this business card, right?  What do you think?  How would you handle it?  Leave me a comment and let me know.  It also lets me know that I'm not the only one reading this mess!!

And there's my bloody mess for Saturday.  Remind me sometime to write about my gall bladder massacre.  That'll just tear your insides out!  I know I know, don't quit my day job.  Until next time, I will sign off with this:  Next time you go out to eat with friends, make SURE you don't eat something that is going to come back and haunt you the next day at a crucial moment.  Lesson learned.