Just as I expected, I wasn’t able to return home last night before midnight. If I hadn’t written a blog earlier in the evening, I would have missed one blog entry. That would have been terrible. I’m committed to sustaining this chain. If I miss one blog entry, it would have to mean that something terrible has happened to me ( knock on wood ). Because I’m really committed to write one blog a day. It’s my mid-year New Year’s resolution. Or something. Not that there ever is such a thing. But why wait for the new year to do something new???

 Anyway, I went to the doctor’s office yesterday. I didn’t know where to go. I just followed my instincts. My sibling dropped me off at the hospital entrance. I looked at the docotors’ directory. I picked one doctor and asked the security guard where this particular doctor is located.

” Excuse me, Mr. Security Guard, where’s room 107 located?”

” It’s at the first level, ” he said rather uncheerfully. He was busy inspecting other people’s bags. You can never be too sure. A terrorist might attack this hospital. Gasp! 

 I don’t know if that would make an impact. I mean, the hospital is full of miserable, sick and dying people. If the terrorists attacked such a place, it’s still going to be a place of misery, sickness and death. I know I shouldn’t joke about such stuff. But I’m always under the impression that no one wants to bomb this city as it is a small and insignificant city. And as my friend joked, ” Hey, this is where all the terrorists vacation.” I hope she’s right.

I went down to the foot of the stairs and asked a clueless-looking guard if he knew where my doctor was located. Obviously, he answered, ” I don’t have a clue Ma’am.”

I followed my instincts. I asked myself if I should turn left or right.  I turned right. A few steps ahead, I found the doctor’s office. I didn’t even know where it was. I just stopped at the first door and there it was. I’m really getting the hang of this female intuition thing.

Once inside, the unfriendly looking secretary asked me to fill up a form. The clinic was stuck in the eighties. The couches were dark and old. The walls were made of darkly varnished plywood.  The floors were made of old marble. The place smelled musty. The place needed a make-over. It needed to be updated.

The clinic was a shared clinic. Three doctors occupied the same office space. There were two rooms. One room was reserved for a male doctor. The other room was shared by two doctors who had the same surname.

” I’m here to see Dr. T,” I told the secretary.

” Which one? There are two doctors with that surname.”

” I don’t know. Uhm. The doctor for thyroid disorders?” I said rather unsure of myself.

” Ah, that’s Dr. M T. Just wait until I call your name.”

I stayed in the farthest part of the room. There were two other people there. One was a middle-aged guy and a middle-aged woman. They were probably married. Almost an hour  went by and a noisy woman entered. She was this 32 y.o. ( she announced her age when the secretary asked her ) slightly overweight lady with shoulder length hair. When she came in the room, she was yapping on her cellphone. There were many unoccupied seats, but she sat beside me. She then continued to yap on her cellphone. After HER RUDENESS ended her phone conversation, she asked me, ” When do you think the doctor is coming?” like she’s been waiting for one hour like I’ve been. I was reading a physics book ( which I thoroughly enjoyed by the way plus it makes me look smart ). I put down my book and answered, ” I really have no idea.”

I knew I sounded calluous or even uncaring. But heck, I really had no idea when the doctor was coming. It’s not as if HER RUDNESS was waiting for a long time. She barged in the clinic sounding and looking important. And it’s not like she noticed time slowly ticking by. She was on her phone most of the time.

As fate would have it, the secretary completely got the sequence wrong. I noticed two fat ladies ( I’m not usually this rude but I just have to be in this instance ), who waited for about ten minutes. When the doctor came in, they were the first to get in. After what seemed like hours, they emerged. I know that I arrived first but HER RUDENESS was called next. The secretary obviously got the sequence wrong. The last patients to arrive were accomodated first. And the first patient was accomodated last. I was so upset that I stood up.

“ I’m wondering where the doctor is? Has she arrived? ” I asked. It’s funny. When I’m upset, the tone of my voice doesn’t change. I’m a regular Norman Bates. I look calm on the outside but I’m positively fuming on the inside.

” Oh, that’s your doctor. She already came in. I think you’re next.” She wasn’t even afraid of me. I was taller than her and I had more body fats. I could take her down if I wanted. She’s puny. In fact, she’s a small woman.

Instead of going back to my seat, I went outside. Once I got outside, I didn’t want to go back in. I was upset. I walked on. It’s a good thing that my forebrain took over. I wasn’t planning on coming back but I’ve waited an hour and a half just to see the doctor. What’s the harm of waiting some more? I took a bathroom break and combed my hair. I walked back to the clinic. I was still upset but I was much calmer when I got back in.

I sat back down. The secretary was talking to another patient when I got there. After waiting for five or ten minutes, it was my turn. I pity the two people who got before me. The secretary doesn’t have the most logical brain.

When I entered the doctor’s room, I was greeted by the smell of urine. I looked to my right and sure enough, there was a bathroom. The door was slightly ajar. I could see that the bathroom wasn’t in the best condition. The doctor’s desk was old and so were her things. The doctor was short and had a high forehead. She looked to be someone in her late forties or in her early fifties. She had short straight hair. She looked serious. Talk about bedside manner. She sounded and looked rather scary.

She was a no nonsense kind of doctor. She asked me right away, ” What are your complaints?”

” I think I have a thyroid problem. I think it’s hypothyroidism.”

” What are your symptoms?”

” Well, for the past few days, I’ve been feeling sluggish and tired. I mean, more than normal.”

” Have you been in a lot of stress lately? Any problems at home?”

” Nope. Not that I know of.” My answer was immediate. I shook my head. I mean, I’m a Type B personality. Even if there’s problem at home, I wouldn’t get stressed. Stress is for hyper people. I am not hyper. I am hypo.

” What other symptoms do you have?”

Basically, I told her everything that I’ve been feeling. I’m like a poster child for hypothyroidism. I have all the symptoms. But the doctor was skeptical which made me feel like a hypochondriac.

” I’m so exhausted. Can you please give me something so I can get well right away?”

” I CAN’T possibly start you on medication,” she said rather loudly. I know where she was getting at. The expression on her face told me a lot. She thinks I’m sort of a sicko. Like I’m a hypothryoid hypochondriac. Of course, I knew that I had to take a thyroid panel before we could confirm for sure. That was why I was there. I wanted to get better.

The doctor took out her prescription pad and wrote down: MVI.

MVI means, multi-vitamins. Geez.

The doctor told me to come back on Monday after I get my blood results. She mentioned that she would probably insert a large needle in my neck. Hmmm. Not too excited about that.

After the quick doctor’s visit that lasted for all but five minutes, I paid the secretary. I didn’t give her the rude stare. I was much too tired for that.

I went to have my blood taken at a nice-looking laboratory. The people weren’t really that friendly. Yesterday was a holiday. They were working on a holiday. I don’t think they were too happy about that.

After I had my blood extracted, I stepped outside and allowed the wind to carry me. I walked to the nearest bookstore where I bought an interesting book about the history of food preservation. It’s part historical book, part science book, part cookbook. It’s really lovely.

I then stepped outside the bookstore and walked to another bookstore which was a couple of blocks away. The new bookstore had lots of titles and their books were cheaper but they didn’t have readable books. Only manuals and reference books. When I stepped outside, it started to rain. Luckily, I bought an umbrella with me. I tried to hold the umbrella close to my head. I hated it when people ogled. I get that a lot. It’s really uncomfortable. Usually, drivers would roll up their windows and ogle at me. I don’t really know why. I feel like such a freak when this happens. I also get cat calls and whistles. There would be unruly bystanders who would shout obscene things at me. It’s sexual discrimination at its worst and I hate it.

I let my feet carry me to the church.  I didn’t plan on going to the church but I went there anyway. I lighted a few candles and said my prayers. I walked for several blocks. I passed by a hospital. I passed by the slum area where I could smell the smell of human waste. I crossed the street. I crossed many streets. I eventually wound up at our store in the mall.

It’s been years since I took a stroll outside the city. I love to walk. In fact, I want everyone else to do it. It’s healthy and it allows you to think. Of course, it’s also very dangerous. Our city isn’t the most pedestrian-friendly city in the world. Motorcyles could run you over in sidewalks. Not only that, since there are no bicycle lanes, bicycles could hit you. It happened to me several times already. In fact, I’m more afraid of bicycles than I am of cars. Of course, it’s not logical. Cars cause more damage the bicycles. But I haven’t been hit by a car yet ( not that I plan to ). But I’ve been hit several times by bicycles.

I wasn’t really myself yesterday. I haven’t been myself lately for that matter. I’ve been feeling sluggish and tired. I know it’s not normal. Hopefully, by Monday, I’ll start taking pills that would make me feel better.