Don Ekt Stoopit

It's been a really hectic week for me and I haven't even thought about blogging.
Ok, I've thought about it, it's just that I haven't had the time or the mind.

First things first.
On Plastic Surgeon's visit and the chemical injections (6 to be exact) in my left leg.
It didn't really hurt, but I have an irrational fear of needles.
Now, to say that you would you think that I might howl and wail like a woman in labour?
No.
However, my reaction is physical.
The stress level is really high for me, but to look at me, you would never know.
I asked the Doctor to please turn his back to me while he was filling the needle and he obliged.
I told him about my fear, he didn't make me wait and he did it as quickly as he could.
I was thankful.
It was over quickly.

Years ago, when I was having one of many surgeries for an ongoing illness that we (God and I) finally beat,
I was waiting to go in for surgery for 1:00pm.
I was irrationally scared of this surgery and had been prepped and ready to go.
However, at 12:55pm another patient started wailing and crying about some minor procedure she was having done.

They put her in my spot and that was when I lost my ever-fuckin'-lovin' mind.
Squeaky wheels really do get the grease.
That is, if you squeak first.

See, I'm of the belief that you shut the fuck up and get it over with as soon as possible.
I'm not a big whiney, sissy, crybaby type.
I hate those types.
Especially when I have to listen to them while I'm stressing out about something bigger than what they are having done.
I fucking hate sucks.

Even in my job,
I am apt to give more attention to a child that shows some sort of attempt at control than to a child that is wailing away for no good reason.
I can't help it.
I was raised not to be a suck.

Anyway.
I just about jumped off the gurney and pulled that woman's ovaries out in my unreasoning anger.
The Nurse seemed shocked by my reaction.
She said that I seemed to be "handling everything so well".
"Well, I'm NOT" I barked.
Know what?
I still had to wait over two hours.

So much for my Mother's teachings of "stegni se" in other words, "be stronk", "don mekka big deal..don ekt stooopit".

The moral of the story?
Ekt stoopid first!

Just Call Me Ivana...Daaaaalink

Ha Ha, I'll bet you all thought I was looking into getting Botox or Lip "enhancement".

No.
I actually am going in to finally have some sort of chemical injected into my leg to rid myself of one emerging vericose vein.

I was the first one in the waiting room this morning and I filled out all the forms asking about my health and allergies and so on.
Running down the list of "do you have one of the following" questions, I found this one particularly interesting:

"Are you mentally ill".
If I was, would I answer "yes"?
Would I even think that I was "mentally ill" if I was mentally ill?

Either way,
as I was sitting in the waiting room I watched people coming in.
I have never seen so many high maintenance women congregated in one place in my entire life.

They were broken up into two groups:
High Maintenance Cell Phone Hugging Business Woman (Group One)
Stripper Past Her Prime but Struggling to Stay Successfully Young if it's Dark Enough (Group Two)

The men I saw this morning were broken up into two groups:
What the Hell is he Here for?/Can't See Anything Wrong (Group One)
Transexuals (Group Two)

As I have said before, I am a people watcher, so I was in my glory this morning.
I was almost disappointed when my name was called to see the Doctor.

You know what else I noticed?
That when you are paying for your treatment, the Doctor actually takes time to explain everything to you in detail.
I like that very much.
Now, let's see if I can get my Insurance Company to reinburse me...yeah sure.