I had a doctor’s appointment this morning. I dreaded it because at my last appointment, my doctor gave me a list of things that I needed to do, and I had only done about half of them. But it was fine. And I am going to do the rest of the things, including get a stupid colonoscopy and get another stupid mammogram and bring my LDL cholesterol down to where it’s supposed to be, whatever that is. Fortunately, my HDL cholesterol number is exceptionally good (or so I am told) and my blood pressure is good, so I’m not in immediate danger.
But like many other people, I have spent the last year stress eating, and now I not only have to lose the 12 pounds that I’d been trying to lose already, but I also have to evict those 12 pounds’ eight little friends. It’s very discouraging, and very tiresome to think about having to get through the next few months with a lot less bread and a lot fewer peanut M&Ms, but there are worse things. Like mammograms and colonoscopies. Sigh.
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The medical system that my doctor is part of (no names but it rhymes with RedCar) likes to keep me informed. Since 11 AM yesterday, I have received no fewer than ten automated calls, with accompanying text messages. Notification that my prescription had been called in, a reminder to come in for my blood work, an invitation to schedule my next appointment, separate reminders to schedule my mammogram and colonoscopy, a reminder that my test results will be available in the patient portal, a request to complete a survey - it’s a lot. I’m this close to blocking their number altogether.
On the other hand, I had forgotten about the new prescription not five minutes after I left the doctor’s office, and I’ve been putting off the colonoscopy for months now, so maybe I should shut up about the phone calls.
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Oh, and the vaccines! One more reminder about my shingles shot, and I’m going full MAHA. I did get the flu shot yesterday and other than feeling a little fluish late in the day, I experienced no ill effects. It didn’t even hurt. I just need to get my COVID and shingles shots, and then I’ll have full immunity, not unlike some Presidents we know. COVID boosters take me out for an entire day and I’ve heard that the shingles vaccine is also brutal, so I’ll do them one at a time. Tylenol will help with the after-effects. I’m pretty sure I’m already on the spectrum somewhere, so it’ll be fine.
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Yes, that’s very flippant, but my choices are flippancy or full despair and the former is far better. Wise cracks and an insufferably snide attitude are the only things holding me together right now. Our sarcasm will sustain us as a people.
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My gosh, this autumn is flying by. It’s almost the end of October. I should be planning for the holidays but I can’t even plan dinner. I can’t even figure out what to put on my to-do list, much less check anything off my to-do list. This is how they get you. They flood the proverbial zone with so much shit - SO MUCH SHIT - that normal people get overwhelmed and we shut down and go into survival mode.
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Every year, I write about the time of year I think of as golden November. Golden November starts at the end of October, with three or four weeks of perfect golden light, pale blue skies, and brilliant color on the trees. It’s a moment between the old year and the new, between the lively youthful riot of summer and early fall and the deep restful quiet of winter. It’s so beautiful and so fleeting that it almost makes you ache. It’s not a time for doomscrolling and compulsive news consumption, and it’s definitely not a time for survival mode.
It’s Saturday morning, clear and bright - golden. I don’t know what I should do today, but whatever it is it will have nothing to do with the medical establishment and absolutely fucking nothing to do with Donald J. Trump.
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Saturday was a nice day, almost Trump-free. My friend hosted a ladies night fire pit gathering, which was lovely. Three of the women who attended are directly affected by the shutdown so it came up in discussion, as did the demolition of the East Wing of the White House, a thing that I still haven’t wrapped my head fully around.
One person at the gathering is a Trump supporter. She wisely remained quiet for that part of the conversation. Another Trump supporter, a person I love very much, has been trying to convince me to “just stop thinking about all of this because you can’t do anything about it.” It’s interesting how the Venn diagram between “He IS your President now so get over it” people in January 2025 and “I just don’t do politics anymore, it’s all so negative” people in October 2025 is a closed circle.
I can’t bring myself to cut people off completely - even people I just like - but I also can’t tolerate gaslighting. Don’t tell me “well you know that Democrats are on that list too,” because I am CERTAIN that the Epstein list includes some Democrats but I have no interest in protecting them. Don’t tell me “well, Obama built a basketball court” because a $50,000 basketball court approved by the Park Service and GSA just like every other change that every other President has made to the White House is absolutely not the same as the wholesale destruction of a whole wing of the building with no permits and no oversight. What’s next? The Capitol dome? The Statue of Liberty? It’s all fair game now, I guess. And they’re just buildings, I guess.
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It's Monday morning and I'm back at the doctor's office, waiting for a blood draw. I didn't sleep last night; or at least, I slept very little, and I haven't had any coffee. It's very quiet here in the waiting room. They normally have the TV on and tuned to HGTV but I like the quiet better. The receptionist and the billing person are chatting about fall baseball (kids, not World Series) and almost everyone else is on their phones, including me. I do a lot of writing on my phone.
The lady sitting across from me is reading on her Kindle. Sadly, I forgot to bring mine. It's very warm here, and I would just take a nap if it wouldn't be weird but it would be weird so I have to just wait. I'm hoping it won't be too much longer. I really need some coffee.
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Well that was fun, wasn't it? I'm hilarious. I'm a riot. But every party has to end. And now, blood draw complete and coffee in hand, I'm going to wrap this one up before my reading public gets up off their couches, goes out their respective front doors, and walks directly into the sea.
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