After three difficult pregnancies and more face time with doctors than I even want to think about, I have been reluctant to go to the doctor for a check up.
It's been a little over a year since my last check up.
I've been been busy. You know, raising kids, breastfeeding, The Man's hand, new job kind of busy.
I've seen lots of doctors--the kids pediatricians, The Man's surgeons, and i even saw our primary care physician when I made The Man go for his physical.
I just haven't gone for me.
But chronic fatigue and new insurance have spurred me into action. Sort of.
I'll be dragging my weary butt into the doctor today to deflect her questions about my stress level and lifestyle in the hopes of getting some really fine sleeping pills.
I won't admit that I'm stressed beyond all reasoning.
It won't change my stress level and happy pills don't make me happy, just stupidly mean.
I'll get my delicate girl parts poked and prodded so I don't have to for another year.
And then I'll hop off the table and go back to my normal life, content to evade medical detection for another year.
And I'll be happy to stay away from those damned hospital gowns!
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