On Friday morning Toney and I met with the accountant who is doing our taxes, and it’s no good. We used to get refunds, and now we always pay. The extracurricular income I receive (website, book, etc.) isn’t taxed – until April 15. So, the refunds are a thing of the past, and the pendulum has swung in the opposite direction.
Not that I’m complaining, of course. I love that the site generates a bit of money every month. I just don’t enjoy writing a tax check. I’m simply not a fan.
This year I’m doing better with the receipts and the potential deductions I’ll be able to take, though. During previous years I’ve been disorganized and almost certainly left significant money on the table. Hopefully 2011 will be the final Year of the Half-Assery. I’m trying to go full-ass in 2012.
After that demoralizing meeting, I drove back to our little town here, and checked in for my doctor’s appointment. I’d been making Toney crazy talking about it, but medical stuff gives me the goddamn heebie-jeebies. Some people hate Hitler, I equally hate all things medical. And now the appointment time had arrived… I was awash in perspiration as I forced myself to walk toward the front door of the building.
And you know all that paper work they always make you fill out, when you’re a new patient? They mailed it to me in advance, which I appreciated. I just handed the completed forms to the woman at the desk, and didn’t have to sit in the corner with a clipboard. One of the questions: Do you wear seatbelts? WTF? What does that have to do with my health?
She also wanted my insurance card, and driver’s license. I was complimented for having my shit together, which is apparently quite rare. I then took a seat amongst a group of wheezy Civil War veterans.
Within three minutes I was summoned to the inner sanctum, and a nurse measured my height and weight (I wish I hadn’t seen it), and took my blood pressure. By this point I felt like I was about to lapse into cardiac arrest, and wasn’t surprised when she told me it was a bit high. In fact, I was braced for “astronomically,” instead of “bit.”
Then I waited. The nurse said I didn’t have to remain on the crinkly paper table, and could move to a chair if I wanted. So, I sat in that chair with the stress needle pegged all the way in the red, for almost 40 minutes. I had visions of me snapping the doc’s index finger off, with my spastic sphincter. And I wondered if Dunkin Donuts sells jelly fingers and nut rolls.
Sweat was pouring down.
Oh, and I almost forgot… The nurse told me the doctor had a medical student with him today, and wanted to know if it was OK if he “observed.” Here we go again! Last time I went for a physical, a 14 year old girl (supposedly a med student, as well) was in there while I was lying on a table in my underwear. What’s the story?!
Finally, the guy arrived. And he seemed pretty cool. I was sizing him up… He didn’t LOOK like a finger-in-the-ass kind of doctor. But, of course, what do I know about it? How could I possibly know?
He made friendly chitchat, and I told him I was concerned about my blood pressure. (Trying to control the conversation, and steer it away from my butthole.) So, he took another reading, and it was still high.
We talked some more. He listened to my heart and lungs, and looked into my ears with a light. We had a longish conversation about West Virginia. He had some kind of connection to the state, but I couldn’t concentrate very well. I think he said he went to college there, but my brain was racing and I’m not sure.
Clearly, he was trying to calm me down, and took yet another reading after our chat. Still high.
Then he told me he wants to do some “standard” blood work, and asked me to cut down on salt and caffeine for a month. And we’ll reconvene on May 18.
End of appointment. With my pants still buttoned! It was totally painless, except for all the self-inflicted stuff. I’d worn “possibly public” underwear, but could’ve just thrown on any old ratty pair. How cool is that? And I never even laid eyes on the medical student.
Of course I’ll be convinced (CONVINCED!) the blood work will reveal all manner of horrible stuff. Like full-body cancer, and whatnot. One of the things they check, he said, is prostate. So, that’s a relief. Maybe I was correct in my original assessment of the man?
He seemed like a good guy, and once this episode is over, I’ll be glad to have him in my corner. I’ve had no regular doctor since I was a kid, and felt like I probably needed to change that, for the past five years or so. Maybe I’m on my way to adulthood? Yeah, right.
After I paid my $25 co-pay, I had a quick lunch and went to work for 11 hours. Usually Fridays are kick-back off days, but this one was high-stress from front to back. The current two-week pay period at my job ends today, and I have more than 120 hours in the can. I’m exhausted, and quite irritable. Just ask Toney, and the Secrets.
Wait! Did I just say “in the can”? Shit. It’s become an all-consuming fixation.
See you guys next time.
Have a great day!