Tuesday, September 28, 2010

And You Are Here For…..?

Please allow me to begin this posting with a gut wrenching UGHHHHH, Christ on a cracker!!!! Insert raised shaken fist – and boy do I know where I would like to insert that fist.

First on my list of “if you weren’t sitting behind that bullet proof glass I would kill you” is the numb nut receptionist at my new GP’s (doctor’s) office. This physician whom I recently tapped as my GP,after years of neglecting my general health, ran a full physical exam, submitted my blood work to the lab, and requested that I see 4 specialists to check out some other random health related issues (see: alien baby growing in my scalp). In one month’s time I was to return for a detailed health analysis thereby fulfilling my personal oath to enter my 40’s with a medical baseline. Unfortunately what I did not take into account when I made my appointment 30 days ago was that my doctor (and her staff) was/were ASHOLES!

In just 3 weeks I saw the audiologist, dermatologist, gynecologist and radiologist. My test results were forwarded to my GP and oh boy was I excited to have a real sit down chat with my new doc. Being me, I called the office on Monday confirmed my Friday 3pm appointment and informed my employer that I would need to take a half day to attend to my health.

I arrived at the doc at 2:45 (early as per me), signed in, and took a seat. At 3:30 the receptionist called my name and shouted through the bullet proof glass, “DO YOU HAVE AN APPOITMENT”. Confused I answered, “Yes, 3pm”. Numb nut, “For what?” I think we all know where this question and answerer exchange was going. Yep after numb nut explained that not only did I NOT have an appointment but they NEVER take appointments, I freaked out. Turns out the practice functioned like a walk in clinic and I was informed that it would only be another 1.5 hours until the doctor could see me. WTF!!!! I asked if the doctor could call with my lab results and was told, “We don’t do that”. I then asked why they didn’t tell me a month ago when I MADE the appointment or on Monday when I confirmed the appointment that they didn’t take appointments – numb nut said, “Well it’s a not like it’s a problem, you can just wait”. It was a problem, I took off a half day of work AND I had to be on a train at 4:35, Ughhhh!!!! I ended the confrontation by yelling “Would you at least call me if my labs showed something? I guess I don’t have diabetes or an STD? How was my mammogram and chest x-ray? Asthma, breast cancer?” Numb nut - “Well yeah, I guess you’re Ok”.

Unfortunately my grand sweeping storming out of the packed waiting room was anticlimactic since the exit door is also the elevator door which remained closed for what seemed to be a very uncomfortable eternity.

Now it’s back to the beginning. I’m searching for a new GP who can interpret my lab results and partner with me in a life of good health. Oh and TAKE APPOINTMENTS!

Monday, September 20, 2010

How Low Can You Go?

Friday Night Date Recap:

I arrived at the bar before Tim (of course); well actually I arrived at the bar before anybody. At 6pm I was the only soul in the place so I plopped myself down on a spinny red bar stool and ordered up a Tom Collins. A few moments later Tim strode through the swinging door festooned in his circa 1984 finest. Really!? This guy is 37 years old and he is wearing high wasted light blue stone washed jeans with his shirt cuffs flipped over his jacket then rolled up to his elbows ala Miami Vice – ughhhhh. Oh AND he had a pony tail! Yep he had slicked back his tawny brown hair into a 3” pubic hair poof that sat complacently on his shirt collar. HOT.

His personality was Ok and with just a few drinks our conversation began to flow. He wasn’t particularly entertaining or flattering but he was intelligent and we agreed on most major topics (religion, politics, the hatred of slow tourists clogging up our streets, etc…). As I sat there listening to him talk about his intimate relationship with show tunes and his love of Lady Gaga (I know, I know) I cataloged how much time and money it would take to make this guy appropriate for prime time, and really it wasn’t that much. A ten dollar super cut and a quick pop into a Gap and he would be a totally different guy, there was a good foundation there…. I thought.

After he downed his second cocktail he took me next door for dinner. Yes kudos to me for getting to step two on a first date. We ate and drank and talked about pop culture and travel. Sure there may have been red flags; his undying love of Tom Selleck, his claim that “Jackass the Movie” was the funniest film ever to be screened, his fanatic appreciation of Buffy The Vampire Slayer (complete with a table side reenactment of the “musical” episode), and his pick for “the one guy I would go gay for” – Tim Gunn. But hey if I’m looking past the pony tail and the grandpa jeans I can give concessions to the vocal gaffs, right? Lord knows I’ve sat across the table from a lot worse.

Dinner was finished and he suggested dessert – well duhhhh of course. His gooey chocolate concoction arrived with two fortune cookies daintily balanced on either side of the bowl; he took one then offered the other to me. His paper fortune revealed some pithy statement whiles mine… well…. if I could find the guy who penned this culinary communiqué I would punch him in the FACE! Yep I cracked open my cookie, took one look at my fortune, placed it back onto the table and said, “Ok moving on…” Tim of course wanted to know what it said and prodded me to read it out loud. So with all I had in me I lifted the asinine missive and read the following in a full voice, “You will never go hungry”. Yeah…. like that’s not uncomfortable coming from the lips of a chick who has been classified morbidly obese since the age of 9.

Out into the cool night Tim walked me to the subway. By this time between the sumptm3kY dinner and the several glasses of wine I was totally over all my judgy judgmental-ness (so the guy has a pony tail and loves big bushy mustaches, I can look past that) and I was totally revving up for a good old smooch. I did the prerequisite, “Thanks I had a great time” then he leaned over….and….. gave me the one armed open shoulder to shoulder hug. What The??!!! How did that freaking happen?

The next day I sent off a quickie email reiterating my appreciativeness of the past night’s entertainment and offered up an idea for a next date if he so wished, and guess what? I got NO RESPONSE! How could that even be? I mean come on, who is this guy waiting for? How many kick ass cool chicks are out there in this big city that will overlook all his misgivings and still give him the benefit of the doubt? Am I that lame that I can’t even get a second date from this guy? Ughhhhhh. How low do I have to stoop?

Friday, September 17, 2010

Yes I Would Love To Join You!

I’ve recently been inundated with a new social phenomenon, the “non invite, invite”. The non invite, invite is infiltrating my social circle’s modus operandi like a legion of phragmites headed towards the marshy flatlands of eastern Long Island (Too random a reference?). Like its predecessor the ever popular lack luster “Non RSVP” the Non Invite, Invite (or NII) has taken hold of the new millennium’s masses and I fear it is sticking.

I first noticed the NII a few years back when Scooter in his awesomely manipulating manner would ask, “Hey are you doing anything later?” I would answer, “No totally free. Wanna do something?” He would then respond, “Ummm not too sure. Give me a call later and I’ll let you know if I can.” WHAT THE FUCK!? Seriously, and he would get me every time. I let it slide cause… well…. it was Scooter and that was how we rolled. Now not only do I get this behavior from a multitude of close friends I’m also on the receiving end of NII from random acquaintances. What is going on? Why would anybody seek me out, extend an invitation, then when I am enthusiastically agreeable to their suggested socialization - drop me. Maybe I should be more like the NON RSVPers, and stay remote. Refuse not only to respond to the invitation but indeed not even acknowledge the receipt of said invitation. Those are the people when asked, “Did you get my invitation I sent last week to the dinner party I am hosting in 3 days?” respond with “Oh yeah I saw that email in my inbox, I just haven’t opened it yet”. Really, my invitation didn’t even rate the sudden double twitch of your pointer finger? Be-Je-Bus Christ! The good thing is that I have weeded most Non RSVPers out of my life, F You controlling bastards; Gail does not wait on you. However the NII is secretive, you never know when the NII will strike or who will hand it out, therefore making it much less easily preemptively eradicated.

Case in point just yesterday I was on the receiving end of a NII from a perspective suitor from OK Cupid. After exchanging a litany of drunken flirtatious emails on Wednesday evening (side note under “things I learned this summer” - my drunken flirting yields high results) he asked, “Do you want to meet for a drink or something this weekend?” I replied agreeably and gave him my gmail address so we could continue our communication removed from the OKCupid conduit. Next is an excerpt from our exchange yesterday:

He: “Hi still up for going out this weekend?”
Me: “Great! Tomorrow or Sunday would be perfect, Saturday not so free”
He: “I guess tomorrow is Ok. Any part of town?”
Me: “In Manhattan any place between Canal and the 70’s is fine. And I’m free after 5pm”
He: “How about Union Square or NoHo?”
Me: PERFECT! I know both neighborhoods really well.


Yep for the next 5.5 hours there was no communication. WTF? By 10:30pm last night I hadn’t heard anything and was totally unsure if we were still on for tonight. Now I’m not being all Type A or wacko, I just need to know if (1) was he the one guy killed in the NYC tornado and (2) do I need to dress for a date (and pack makeup, hair goop, and heels) when I leave my apartment at 8:45 am or will I be returning back to Queens after work to change cause the “date” isn’t till 9pm? Ughhhh so annoying and controlling to leave me hanging therefore I had to be that chick and email him, “Hi, wanted to know if there is a time that we are meeting up tomorrow?” he responded, “Oh I guess after work sometime, my schedule is totally open. I’ll text you sometime tomorrow”. And again, WHAT THE FUCK!!?? If your schedule is totally open and you are asking me out then TELL ME WHEN AND WHERE!!!! Am I supposed to show up at work today with 3 sets of clothes, and shoes, and bags patiently awaiting your text with baited breath in hopes that SOMETHING may be appropriate for this mystery date?

So long story longer - feeling totally apathetic to tonight’s date I tossed on some random clothes this morning and awaited the buzz of my silenced blackberry. At 3pm I got the info and of course the dude went rogue and picked a place a little more posh than I had expected, oh well hopefully it will be dark and I’ll be drunk quickly.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

BUI continued - Pieces of Me

The ESL receptionists at my GP’s office were very sweet to recommend a multi-lingual dermatologist in Jackson Heights located under the elevated tracks of the 7 train however I work on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, the home of the most dermatologists per capita, so I went rogue.

Dr. Good Skin’s office located between Park and Lex in the East 60’s looked like a movie set, all white and modern with model perfect girls in body flattering light blue
scrubs and dewy skin. I’ve never been to a dermatologist but I am certain that this practice was way better than ANY previously recommended Jackson Heights under the subway tracks establishment, even if they did served fried chicken in the back room.

After a quickie once over by the nurse followed by
a conversation regarding my fainting tendencies the doctor examined the nugget baby growing in my hairline. Baby nugget has been thriving in its parasitic livelihood for over a decade now and has grown from a small pea to the size of a large grape. It’s unnoticeable to all except me, and a guy this summer who during a moment of intimacy began to run his hand adoringly through my silky raven hair, then abruptly froze, widened his eyes and slowly said, “What is that?”… game over, nugget OUT!

However Dr. Good Skin had a different plan, nugget baby could wait. We scheduled the abortion for Dec. just in case he needs to shave my head - cause there is NO WAY I am gonna turn 40 in Nov. without ¼ of my hair, then Dr. Good Skin turned his discerning eye to a black mole located on my left wrist and in seconds flat he prepped me for minor surgery.

Ok so maybe it’s a glorified cheese slicer operation and not really minor surgery however whatever you want to call it I’ll tell you what I call it “Faint Inducing Medical Behavior” – yep I went down. I was kinda OK while Doc did the slicing, it was the “Hey G, take a look at this” when he was done that took me out. Ears rang, toes tingled, and cold sweat magically popped up along my top lip. The nurse got me flat out and popped open a cold can of coke while she and the Doc discussed how in hell they were gonna perform the extrication in December without one of them driving me home and tucking me into bed.

I exited the office with a bandage on my wrist and instructions for daily cleansing and redressing. Of course yesterday morning when I was instructed to “remove the bandage in the shower and wash with warm soapy water” I discovered that my apartment needed cleaning, the dishwasher needed emptying, sheets and towels needed changing, really EVERYTHING had to be done before I took a shower and readied for work. Finally after 45 minutes of puttering I stepped into the shower and with my eyes firmly closed I gently peeled back the dressing and washed my wrist. Blind drying and re-bandaging was a trick but I got it done without vomiting or passing out – now I all I have to do is get through the next 8 days of recovery and maybe within 2 weeks I’ll look at my left hand again(or maybe not).

FYI - NEVER goggle image search "Cyst on scalp"

Blogging Under The Influence

I’m not confident that blogging after downing a half bottle of cabernet sauvignon is the best decision I’ve made however it is certainly not the worst (side note I just made a ziti hero, now THAT may reveal itself as NOT a good idea). I am certain however that my usually spotty at best editing skills will be extremely marginalized, my word choices will undoubtedly be reduced to the vocab of a brainy 7th grader and subject matter that would normally be excluded to save myself (and others) from life ending embarrassment will somehow magically remain upon my page. Let’s DO this!

As the summer comes slowing winding down I am reminded that in just 2.5 months time I will be rockin’ in my 40’s. That is such a freaking mind fuck . 40, I’m turning 40. I feel like Samantha in “16 Candles” when she wakes up on her 16th birthday expecting that EVERYTHING will be different yet quickly discovers that nothing has changed. I am confident that on Nov. 22nd 2010 I will be the same BUT there is something mysterious and awesome about the 40, there is weight to the 40, significance to the 40.

With 40 on deck and my health insurance re-instated I decided to finally schedule all those pesky appointments that the G in her 30’s disregarded. First up, find a new GP and get a full medical exam and physical – check! Side note - native Spanish speakers find my name impossible to pronounce which became extremely apparent, and frustrating for the receptionists, when they repeatedly yelled “Gay?, GAY?” through their sliding glass window when they required my health insurance ID. Even though I was the only patient in the waiting room I totally ignored their calls for attention for I was fully engaged in the novella on the giant flat screen suspended directly over my head.

My new GP is great however when did I get so old that it is possible for my doctor to be YOUNGER than me? The chick Dr. looked 27, can that even be legal? Maybe she is one of those prodigies who began med school at 14, yeah let’s go with that. During the exam we disused my self diagnosed loss of hearing in my left ear, the growth on my head (that I swear is an alien slowing nursing off my gray matter), and my family’s cancer history. 1.5 hours later I was out on the sundrenched streets of Woodside with my sweaty fist clenched ‘round referrals for a dermatologist, audiologist, gynecologist, a chest x-ray, and a mammogram. Kiss my ass 40… here I COME!