I have been fortunate to have led a fairly healthy life. One where Dr’s visits have been for pregnancy, basic symptoms of easily treatable ailments, as well as the regular periodic medical that we ladies put ourselves through. My last visit was sixteen months ago and did give me cause for concern, but proved to be nothing to worry about.
Today I was in the consulting room once more and realized that aging has its pitfalls, especially when a GP tells you that for your age you have left it a long time between visits. Is it just a revenue raising exercise I think to myself, as my blood pressure is taken and a biannual check of bloods is arranged. It’s a good job my blood pressure reading had been done, because by now I was imagining my visit to the vampire, better known as the Phlebotomists. No one else in the family suffers as I do when it comes to needles. They think it quite funny that I can literally pass out which adds to my humiliation, so often it is done in stealth mode and no one knows until it is over.
It all seems so silly when I consider the tragedy of world events and the trauma that hits many families. Yet to me, the fear is real. Give me a snake or spider any day.
No one in my family knows that my tummy is having a nervous twinge or two, that I will be fasting from midnight tonight and I will bravely face my fears in just over seventeen hours. Only you, my blogging friends are privy to this information, and I know you are not going to embarrass me.
On a positive note, I was Bulk Billed through our Medicare system, which made it a free visit. And I can already smell the coffee that I will be rewarding myself with after the event, before heading off to writers group for another exciting morning.