Tire Irons & Blubbering Panic

Today I went to see my doctor to find out why it appears and feels as if I’m on the verge of giving birth to an alien directly out of the left side of my solar plexus.  He poked and prodded on my belly and then started spasmodically typing notes into my record and then suddenly whipped his head around and said,

You’ve panicked haven’t you?

I said,

Completely.

He said,

Well knock it off.  I’ll let you know when you should panic.  You’re getting a CT scan to rule out all of the panic crap and then we’ll get down to treating what’s probably a severely strained muscle.

I love my doctor for telling me to knock it off.  And when I can panic.

I also love it that my brother in law Zach went bowling with a bunch of other nutjobbers last weekend and the bowling ball he was using rubbed a sore on the index finger of his dominant hand.  Why?  Because it got all infected and he had to go to the doctor to get antibiotics and now Ben and I get to say all kinds of things to him like,

Hey!  If they chop your finger off can we call you Stumpy?

and

We’re so sorry you’ve got gonorrhea on your finger.  Maybe it’s a sign you should start jackin’ off with your other hand?

It also gave us the opportunity to talk a bunch of smack at him about being newly single and not being even more of a dork than he already is by getting all re-bound-a-fied and hooking up with some nasty ho.

Hey!  Did you know 99.999% of women who would want to hook up with some kooktard who just got out of a relationship can give you VD from something like 30 feet away?

and

Looks like Good Ol’ Dr. Thunder Hisself is giving you a little warning with that infection on your finger.  Just imagine that on your dick!

I also love it that Zach, when I told him about my complete panic over getting ready to give birth to an alien, said,

If you croak I want all of your horses!

Because the only two things that keep me sane when I’m panicked over my health are:

1. Being in a state of constant motion because, the moment I am still, I simply panic again
2. Obnoxious jokes about how I’m going to die or give birth to an alien

Before my doctor left the room this afternoon he said,

Wait for the nurse.  She’s getting your CT Scan appointment figured out.  And do not panic.

So I flipped through something like 7 magazines and piddled around with everything in the exam room so I wouldn’t panic until she got there.  I even looked in a few drawers for one of those thingys to bang on my knee to check my reflexes.

The nurse came to the room something like 20 minutes later and said,

Your insurance company is making us wait 72 working hours until they will approve your CT Scan.

So I panicked and burst into tears and told her I would call her later because I was going to,

…blubberblubber…track down some cock smith with my insurance company and personally kick their ass…blubberblubber…with a tire iron…blubber…

I love my doctor and his nurse because I can say stuff like that and my doctor never says a word and his nurse always says stuff just like she said today,

Well, OK honey.  You just give us a call and let us know what you get figured out.

And then I went to my car and got on the phone with my insurance company and didn’t kick anybody’s ass.  I did, however, remain completely panicked and cried about 5 times and told them something along the lines of,

…blubberblubber…have had you as my insurance company for 5 years… blubberblubber…this is the first big thing I’ve ever needed…blubberblubber…and you making me wait for 72 hours when I’m in this kind of pain and it looks like a fuckin’ alien is going to come bursting out of my side at any moment is wrong…blubberblubber…wrong on so many levels that I cannot imagine I could ever fully understand it…

And the ass smack on the other end of the phone put me on hold and then came back to give me an authorization number for my CT Scan.  It was, of course, after 5pm and too late to call my doctor’s office to get the fuckin’ thing scheduled.

I have absolutely remained in almost constant motion since then.

I have also been going over and over strange events in my medical history that make me laugh:

• The time I was rushed to the ER by my roommate due to excruciating pain in my pelvic area and nobody could figure out what was going on.  Uh…except for my roommate and I something like 7 hours later when I took the most gigantic dump ever and experienced immediate relief.
• The fact that I’ve broken my nose and looked like a fuckin’ raccoon 3 times by way of
  • Smoking a bunch of weed and then running through somebody’s back yard and clothes-lining myself on one of those gigantic electric cables that goes from a pole into the ground and bleeding all over the place
  • Being excessively drunk while riding a horse and tipping forward so fast and furious that I smacked my nose on the horses neck and bled all over the place
  • Being excessively drunk and insisting I could walk on my own volition and immediately falling like a felled tree face first into a sidewalk and bleeding all over the place

Yeah.  There’s just three of the thousands of reasons I’m in recovery as mentioned on my “Who Is Mongoliangirl” page.

I’ve also been thinking about how if I do have an alien baby it might grow up to be best friends with Angry Baby, the bizarro spawn of Dirty Pirate Hooker and Ghost of Keywork.  They could grow up together and spew some hate at my insurance company.

Along with this is taking time to make jokes in my head that it looks like Mable, our Chihuahua, crawled up my ass and is trying to get out by way of shoving her little apple head out of my side.

And if I can’t get that CT Scan done tomorrow I’m going to take a tire iron over to the main office of my insurance company.

Except that I think it is located in Atlanta or Philly or some other city far away from here.

So I’ll probably just continue to panic and cry about 5 more times.

You’d think I’d come up with options other than tire irons or blubbering panic.