Sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office is not a place to find humor– at least, not when you’re by yourself. There is no one of whom to make fun unless you have a mirror, and I didn’t this morning.
The dearth of humor continued after I entered the examination room and was asked to step on the scale, although after I did so, I now did have some of whom I could make fun, i.e. myself. The thing is I didn’t feel like it, and the clock ticking, ticking, ticking into the future only me contemplate my own mortality.
When the doctor arrived, she didn’t inject any humor into the conversation by having me bring up “family history,” in this case, a late grandfather who died of colon cancer. I was there for a physical and to get an order for blood work because I take Prozac. Luckily, she said I didn’t have to have a rectal exam, but because of the family history, she did give me two sticks on which to put my feces, place in two cards and mail for analysis.
Then she left– only to return a moment later because forgot to give me my testicular exam. For some, this might be the time to make jokes, but after contemplating death, I really wasn’t in the mood.
Maybe tomorrow, though, I’ll be able to find some humor as she did double my dose of Prozac, at least for the winter.
Maybe happy days are here again…
I don’t know about you, but that song depresses the hell out of me, especially sung by Barbra and Judy. I don’t know if I’ll ever get happy again.
- How Long Until My Prozac Starts Working for My Depression? (everydayhealth.com)
- Prozac for Stroke Recovery? 11 Multi-Use Drugs (abcnews.go.com)