So, I have a confession to make. I hate going to the doctor. It doesn't matter if I am going for a routine checkup and that nothing is wrong, I am still scared. I'm not really sure why. I had a great doctor all through my childhood and I have a wonderful, caring doctor now.Mark is making me go to the doctor this afternoon. I really have no right to complain because I do the same to him regularly. But, I REALLY don't want to go! It was so much nicer when you were little and you went in with your mom and she told the doctor what was wrong and you (the child) did not need to even open your mouth unless asked. Now, you are the person responsible for telling the doctor what ails you and I have to say that I don't like that. I have taken so many human microbiology classes, etc, that I now look at my list of symptoms and go, well I don't want to say that one because then she'll think that I have this. And slowly, but surely, I manage to pare down my list until I feel like an idiot for even bothering her with my little problem. I am positive that this is the wrong attitude, but I just can't help myself.
I am pretty sure that I am just fine, but I am glad that I have a husband who is determined enough to make me go see the professional who will confirm this. Or, if I am wrong, be able to tell me what is going on with my body.
I may not have my mom to come with me, but at least Mark sent me with a list of symptoms, just in case I decide to forget!
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2 comments:
I hope you are all right how are you doing, call me if you need anything
jessica..
welcome to the blogging world!
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