The Lost August

I went to see a doctor yesterday.  This is something I try to avoid with a stubbornness that borders on the absurd.

Now to be honest I do believe that we are an over-medicated society and that we more time on treatment than prevention and that is a mistake. I can be a bit of a hippy-dippy holistic bohemian. I will own that.

However that is only part of the truth, the part that I use to rationalize and ignore the more embarrassing part. But here it is, I am afraid of doctors. Yes I know this comes as a shock to any one who reads this because It’s not as if I am afraid of my own shadow (yes that was sarcasms).

I have a great deal of respect for the medical profession. I am so glad for how doctors and nurses have continually helped my friends and family in their time of need. As for me, I will tolerate an insane amount of discomfort before seeking out medical attention. And even then it is usually with some prodding by loved ones.

I can’t help it. I don’t know where the fear comes from. But it’s terrifying. I don’t like sitting nervously in the lobby, I don’t like being weighed in front of someone, and these things are definitely unpleasant. But the real horror comes in when the start pocking and prodding me. From the moment they rap my arm in that scary bondage thing to measure blood pressure I freak. I know that soon the doctor will be pocking at my orifices while he shines lights in them, and even the though makes my palms sweat. In fact just seeing a white coat can send a chill down my spine. It’s stupid really, I know that I have in the past survived these doctor encounters and so it only seems rational that I will survive them again. But my pour brain does not think like that.

So what made me do the unthinkable and roll into a clinic for help yesterday? Well I would like to say that it was because I have been sick this entire month. Yes this is what will now be referred to as the lost August. But with every passing week I kept saying to myself “it will get better, really I just need to drink more hot tea”. But every day I would wake up with substances coming out of my nose that, quite frankly, looked like belong in some bad B sci-fi movie from the sixties. I probably would have kept going like that for another few weeks though, because I am that ridiculous. However every time a friend came by they would tell me how terrible I sounded, and how tired I looked. But the real kicker came from my sister, bossy brat that she is, who kept hounding me, and hounding me about it, and well it worked. When I tried to make her promise not to tell mom I was still battling this junk because I did not want her to worry, I knew I had a problem.

So there you have it, I have already taking my first dose of antibiotics and I am hopeful that this delightful bacterial infection that has been making residence in my body this entire month will take the hint and let me be. And for the record the doctor, and everyone at the clinic I went to were extremely nice to me, and for that I am grateful.

And who knows maybe this month of misery will teach me to not let it get this bad without help in the future… but I wouldn’t hold my breath.