Hypochrondriac Has a Check-up

So, as you know, I’m a little crazy. This is part of my charm, and generally, I don’t let it bother me. I sort of enjoy it, to be honest. Very rarely, these days, am I actually troubled over my hypochondria. It’s more like a joke on me, and I’m in on it.

Sometimes, though, something happens and I have a bad moment. Take, for example, the phone call I received this evening:

“Jen, this is Dr. Blah-blah-blah. I got your lab results back, and I’d like to speak to you. Please call me back as soon as possible at 212-UR-SCRWD.”

I was out at dinner with my friend Laura when this call came in, and I behaved very calmly and maturely.

“I’m obviously dying,” I informed Laura.

“Oh dear,” she said, taking a bite of jalapeno popper.

“That was the doctor. She was calling with my lab results. I’m pretty sure she wanted to let me know that I currently have more strains of HIV than they’ve seen in a single person since Patient Zero.”

“I bet you’re anemic,” Laura said. “That’s usually what it is when they call me about my labs. Why don’t you call her back?”

So I did. By this time, the office was technically closed, but as I’ve previously stated, I’m insane, so I made the attending physician – you know, the one who’s there for actual emergencies – check to see if my doc was still there.

“Is this for your child?” she asked mildly, prior to putting me on hold to search for my doctor. Clearly, this kind of hysteria is usually associated in the office with mothers of sickly children.

“Is it my what? What? No! No, it’s me. It’s me and SHE WANTS TO TALK TO ME ABOUT MY LABS.”

“Oh. Um, hang on a moment.”

My doctor came to the phone, because she’s awesome, and because, I suspect, she’s used to crazy people. She works at a practice that incorporates alternate healing with western medicine, and she’s in New York, so I’m sure I’m not the only nut she sees.

“Ah, yes, OK, your labs,” she said. “Cholesterol normal. Liver, kidney, thyroid function, all normal. Vitamin B-12, normal. Iron, good. This is strange, though: You are anemic.”

Effing Laura. I should save my copay and just see her.

Published by Jen Hubley Luckwaldt

I'm a freelance writer and editor.

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