I had my annual "female" exam this morning. I haven't been back to see my ob/gyn since my six-week post-partum exam after I had Evelyn; It was sort of odd to be there without a burgeoning belly. But, it was good to see Dr. Sweeney again (as good as it can be to see this sort of doctor). I started seeing her when I was pregnant with Will, so I equate her with the child-bearing time of my life. I found out today that she's retiring (she's only in her 50s) and she told me how much she was going to miss me and that I was one of her favorite patients (she even wrote on my chart "favorite" and put a star next to it for my future doctor to see. Is it wierd that my straight-A student former self felt a little bit of glee that I was the "teacher's pet"? Perhaps I need therapy...)
Anyway, Dr. Sweeney is VERY conservative and meticulous in her approach to medicine so she has all her patients over the age of 35 (ahem, me) get annual mammograms even though the recommended age is 40. So, yes folks, I have an appointment to get this rite-of-passage of all middle-aged women. Yes, I said middle aged. Gah!
The receptionist who was helping me make my breast-mashing appointment on my way out asked me if I had breast implants. REALLY? Now, I'm sure this is a question that she has to ask everyone about to have a mammogram, but CLEARLY if she had looked at my she would have known the answer to this question. Because if the answer was yes, I obviously need to have my money back. Bwahahaha.
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