I Know This Much Is True

Sometimes I don't know whether to laugh or cry at the situations I find myself in. Today I had a post-op visit with Dr. Pringle, my gyno who did the surgery. I took a book with me that I just started reading "I Know This Much Is True"; it has 900 pages and I was hopeful I wouldn't finish it before they called me back. So I read for half an hour, they called me back and said Pringle is in a delivery, he won't be back for at least an hour, would you like to reschedule. I told them to call me on my cell when he returns b/c I was not rescheduling this appt. I thought it was a great opportunity for a nap so I made the 5 minute drive home, laid down and before the pillow lines had even formed on my face, they called and said he was back. I was home exactly 7 minutes. So I went back and of course had to wait 45 more minutes before I saw him. It is torture for me to sit in an exam room on the table and wait for a dr. There is nothing to do but let your mind wander, which for me can be dangerous. Someone was having fun at the satellite radio station they were pumping into the room, I heard I Love Rock n Roll, Roll With It Baby and Roll On. The only roll I wanted was a nice, hot buttery one. Then I moved on to the educational brochures lined up on the wall. What kind of genius matched the pictures to the topics? Would you really smile mysteriously if you needed a tubal, or would you really gaze reflectively out the window while holding your belly when trying to decide whether to have prenatal genetic testing? Seriously, if you needed a D&C, would you take a walk on the beach??? And does pelvic pain only strike when you step out of the shower with a turban on your head??? So finally he comes in for what I call the "I'm Fine! You're Fine!" conversation- you know, I say I'm doing fine, he says You're doing fine, visit over.
I know this much is true, I need a nap after all that.