An Afternoon That Dreams Are Made Of

Yesterday morning I was talking to one of my best friends, my mother-in-law.  The conversation turned to our cell phones and I.C.E.  (in case of an emergency) designations that Internet circulations suggest we make.  She was telling me that she had I.C.E. 1, 2 and 3.   

I made a mental note to take care of this in the rare event it was needed one day.

There are 2 days in the year I look forward to with unabashed excitement.  The first is my 6 month check up at the Dermatologist and the 2nd is my next 6 month check up at the Dermatologist.  My weakness for tanning beds in the early nineties combined with a strong family history of skin cancer allow me the distinct privilege of participating in these events throughout the year.  

The exuberance surrounding my unique opportunity to be completely naked under unforgiving fluorescent lighting was underwhelming.  

Did I mention the office is only 40 degrees?  

Did I reference that I had both children with me?

We entered the waiting room and of no surprise to me the majority of the patrons were elderly gentleman.  This was the only saving grace.  

My children were going to have the competition of their lives trying to get my attention. 

12 of the 14 wrinkled old men were quietly snoozing.  Hats down over their bald heads, hands gently folded- extending over their large bellies with each breathe and dressed in layers on a warm day.  

The ambience relaxed me.

Sophia climbed next to me on a couch while I gave Juliet a bottle.   After Juliet was done, she started babbling, like most 8 month old children do.  She screamed "DADA DADA DADA" over and over again.

In almost perfect synchronization, the waiting patients were awaken.  

Good, now we can chat.  I am always in the market for a dose of unsolicited wisdom.

Is that an oxymoron...."waiting patients?" 

A particularly overdressed gentleman to my left saw the girls and gave us a most angelic smile.  My face and heart smiled along with him.  An easy invitation for a temporary friendship.  

He began what would be a 30 minute overview of the types of metal that strollers and high chairs were constructed of "back in the day."  He gained credibility by sharing that his oldest grandchild was now 26.  

Back in the day certainly was a long time ago.  

Similar to my in-laws-- his wife has every single one of these gems stored in the attic and while her children turned down her gracious offerings, she held out hope that perhaps her great grandchildren would enjoy a sturdy metal carriage ride or a relaxing meal in the strapping high chair.

His equally stunning wife came out of her appointment and I resisted the urge to hug him good-bye.  We parted ways, each having taken something so valuable from our conversation.  To make the experience complete, he reopened the office door and shouted at the top of his lungs, "If you ever need a metal stroller, we have one for you!"

With that entertainment behind me, I noticed how sweaty I was becoming from toting Juliet around the small confines.  I asked the receptionist how far behind the doctor was.  She said, "Honey, we still have 1:15 appointments waiting."  

It was 3 o'clock---no wonder they were all sleeping.

With mild frustration I shared the obvious information that I had my children with me and wasn't going to last 4 hours.

She offered to fit me in with the PA.  After demanding a cursory overview of his education and experience, I accepted.

I walked down the hall feeling a bit less apprehensive.  I convinced myself that I would be a welcome patient in terms of physique when compared with the waiting room clientele.

The first thing he noticed was my pregnancy mask.  Without asking my thoughts he tailored up a prescription for some magic medicine that used for 8 weeks will erase my Juliet kisses.  I will admit that I put it on quite apprehensively last night.  I love all that pregnancy is and these are the last physical marks representing my journey.

I showed the kind man a freckle on my foot that was making me uncomfortable and before I could say much more the numbing needle was in and she was shaved off.  

A proprietor of honed skill I had him deemed. 

Even after I overhead slight mumblings of "blood vessel."

I got dressed all the while praising the girls for what a good job they did and how patient they were.  

We went out to the receptionist and she immediately shouted, "She's going to faint, get a nurse!"

"Oh my God...I thought."   Forgive my temporary display of selfishness, but I truly just wanted to be checked out.  Take my hard earned money, give me a receipt for flexible spending submission and of course, schedule that next 6 month visit....a girl needs something to look forward to.

Can't the medical emergency wait?

I leaned down to the stroller to get my wallet--- and was aghast to see a pool of blood.  My entire shoe was spilling over and like a faucet, blood was spraying out from all angles of my bandage.  I guess I looked pale.

It was still numb so I didn't feel a thing ---until I saw it.  That's all I needed to get ridiculously lightheaded.  

Great.  No I.C.E. number in my cell phone.  

I can see them calling the stay at home Mom/Ph.D. in Anthropology candidate named Catherine that I just met in Florida.  They will phone Northern Quebec and most likely be distracted by her beautiful French accent.

But......people surprise me everyday.  Let's see what Catherine can do for me.

A nice woman, but a stranger nonetheless, took my girls to sit down.  Sophia had her eyes covered the whole time and for once, I don't think wanted to be with me.  I saw her, she was scared to death of all the blood.  It was in the perfect spot.  Every time I moved, it sprayed and sprayed.

3 shots later, full of blood and cauterized, I was set to go.

I hobbled to the car, light headed or not I had to get to Claudia's---she had a special delivery from San Antonio.