Doctor phobia

Of course, I must start out this morning with the photo update. By day's end, we should have a building looking pretty much like it's gonna look. The crew says that once the aluminum siding starts appearing so do the neighbors. They were correct. Stan and Geneva came over yesterday morning for inspection.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to visit with them very long cuz my hand was bleeding, and I had to head off to the doctor's office. Stan offered to get a needle and thread and sew up the ugly gash, but I told him I'd probably need a tetanus shot. He said he could drag some of that vaccine out of the back shed if I wanted. I thanked him for his generosity but headed on over to the car for my first doctor's visit of the day.

The three-corner, inch-long rip on the back of my hand occurred during doggie-nozzle-spray time. The city pups were just catching on to how much fun it is to leap in the air and grab a mouthful of water as it shoots out of the nozzle. The scene in the front yard, with Willie watching his pups and our pups, was reminiscent of the early evening hatch when fish are jumping all over a mountain lake. First one, then another, leaping three or four feet in the air, grabbing at the water.

Well, one time, I suffered a hand-on collision with Kiwi's teeth. It was pretty ugly, and I must admit that the discomfort in my eyes resonated throughout my body as I saw a big piece of skin flapped backward toward my knuckles and deep red blood oozing forth.

During a phone conversation a few minutes later, Marian at the doctor's office asked if my tetanus protection was current. Heck, I couldn't remember cuz I stay as far away from the doctor's office as possible. I was hoping she'd just say to wash it, dab on some neosporum and cover it with bandage. Instead Nurse Marian said it was probably a good idea to bring it in so they could look at it.

Knowing I had to accompany my mother to her regular appointment in the afternoon, I wasn't too keen on driving into town. But that was the least of my reasons for not wanting to go see Marian and Dr. Lawrence. They're nice people, as are all the folks down there at Kaniksu Medical Services.

Doesn't matter how nice any medical people are to me. I'm just plain scared to death to visit the doctor. First, the thought of a tetanus shot, secondly, the thought of a needle being poked into my hand several times----both were ample reasons for my nervousness as I drove toward town.

Worse yet, though, is the scary thought that, while fixing the wound, they might take my blood pressure and find out I'm off the charts. They might look at my chart and see that I haven't been in there for all those maintenance exams for Lord knows when, and they'll make me do blood tests and urine tests and then they're going to find out I have some life-threatening illness and I'm sure to die next week.

That's what goes through my mind when I go to the doctor's office, and I found out I'm not alone. My daughter-in-law Debbie tells me she's phobic too, and so is my sister Laurie. Laurie says she doesn't mind fix-it type stuff, like cuts or scrapes, but please don't search any further.

"I want to be dead when I find out I have a life-threatening illness," she told me yesterday. I told her I'd be happy to be dead with her when I learn the bad news.

Debbie tells me there's a name for that anxiety; it's called "White Jacket Phobia."

Well, my White Jacket Phobia worked overtime on the nine mile drive to the doctor's office yesterday. I kept telling myself to calm down while driving with my right hand on the steering wheel and my left hand sticking up with a wet, bloodied wash cloth draped over it. As I hit the town stoplights, the thought of being nervous calmed me a bit. I could tell them that my blood pressure was 325 over 234 because I was nervous and I'd just finished my high-octane latte.

That would take care of blood pressure, for sure, but what about the information in the charts that showed I was past due on my blood and "pee-in-the-cup" assignments. Still no good rationalizations had come to mind by the time I pulled into the parking lot and ran to the john before walking into the office. I braced myself for the tetanus shot, figuring I'd just tell Marian to poke me right away so I wouldn't have to think about it.

Marian met me in the hallway and gave me the most wonderful news: you're current with your tetanus. In fact you have seven more years, she told me. She was noncommittal, however, about divulging any information on the next needle potential. Doctor would have to look at the hand, she said.

Well, good ol' Dr. Lawrence walked in, showed me my chart, pointed out that I hadn't had blood tests since 2005 and that I was old. Old people have to have those every year, he said, and I know that cuz I'm old. Dr. Lawrence thinks he can play rank on me, but I shot down his next line.

"I'm 61," he told me.

"Well, so am I," I fired back.

"Oh, did you have a birthday?" he asked.

Well, after we got all the senility stuff out of the way, he actually asked me if I wanted stitches. What a no brainer!

"I don't care about cosmetics," I said. "If there's a scar, it won't bother me."

Those were magic words. He pulled out these thin strips and taped down the skin flap, put on a piece of gauze and wrapped me with ace bandage.

I walked out of the doctor's office a free woman. This morning I continue on with life and my ace bandage, not knowing whether I'm going to live or die. Cuz whatever medical secrets lie within my body will stay in my body, just like they do in Las Vegas.

I went to the doctor's office with my mother later in the afternoon free of high blood pressure and free of "White Jacket Phobia." The good doctor would be concentrating on someone else's hidden medical secrets, and for the time being, mine were safe from scrutiny.