Take two asprin and call me in the morning

The problem with being a person is that people are impossibly imperfect. With the best of intentions they can create problems that last a lifetime.

I was born in November 1949, twenty one and a half years after my mother was born. By the world's standards she was a competent full grown woman. In reality she was a distraught girl grieving her father's long, horrible, nightmarish death from cancer.

Some of my first memories before I was four were that if I died right then, who would I know in heaven because I had no memory of my grandfather. My mother assured me that he would be there waiting for me. I spent a lot of time thinking about heaven and what it was like.

My mother was terrified of doctors and dentists. She talked about the horrors of her father's death and whenever we had to go to the doctor I knew it was possible that I was going to have unimaginable experiences.

And unimaginable is probably what I still carry with me today.

Most of my medical experiences have been relatively simple and painless, but the anticipation is an agony. I had tests done last Friday and by the time I went in to discuss the results with my doctor yesterday I was a mess. My blood pressure was way up, my respiration was up, I had lost six pounds in four days.

Intellectually I knew it would be okay, but my mind was all over the idea that he might be going to tell me I would die, or need some horrible treatment. In the end he prescribed two prescriptions.

This is a new doctor. I really like him. He is calm, easy to talk to and very affirming. He has already done things that make me wonder if my old doctor, who I loved, was really the best for me. She moved out of state, but she also tended to catastrophize things. I thought I was a lost diabetic with her and have since discovered I was barely prediabetic. Everyone has their own way of presenting things.

This new doctor told me my weight and vitals were really not that out of line for someone my age and he looked both concerned and a little surprised that I was that terrified.

I hope I am able to continue growing and learn not to be so afraid in the future.