A Penny For Your Thoughts
By: Nancy Whitaker
You would think that by my age I would get over my fear of doctors. Doctors have always frightened me and I believe each time I go to an appointment, they will have bad news. There are so many things to check about our health, especially when we grow older.
Our eyesight fails, our joints get stiff, we get bunions on our feet, gain weight, can’t run, can’t jump, fall down in high heels, get out of breath when we climb stairs are just a few of the things we endure when we reach a certain age.
We are told to exercise, eat right, sleep eight hours and to drink plenty of water. That may help, but I know people who did all that and still got sick. Then I also knew people who drank and smoked that have lived to be over 100. So what do we do? Personally, I guess I will eat that piece of chocolate or pie and be happy and enjoy it. Just think if we ate right the doctors could have less patients. (who wants to eat right?)
Yes, of course, I remember when doctors used to come to our homes and treat our illnesses. They may come late at night, but they always showed up with a little black bag full of all sorts of interesting little gadgets. Of course, I was scared of a doctor or a dentist even then. And, I let them know about it.
One day when I was in the third grade, I came home from school and my Mama had a nice little waxed paper bag with some potato chips in it. I had a little brother and we both wanted those chips. So I grabbed them. My Mama said, “Now, Nancy you have to share them with your brother.”
I immediately turned around on my little heels and said very loudly, “I want my own bag, I don’t want to share.” The next thing I remember is that I ran into the edge of the door and cut my head right above my eye. Oh yes, I screamed and hollered and thought I was going to die. I saw the blood and immediately laid down on the couch informing everyone that I was bleeding to death.
As I laid on the couch scared and screaming, Grandma got on the crank phone and asked for the doctor. Of course we had a party line, and everyone would pick up their receiver and listen in. This is how we got the news.
Well the doctor said he would come out to our house to look at my head, but it may be later. Oh my! Would I die or bleed to death by the time he got here? It must have been around 9 p.m. when the doctor came in and looked at my head. He said, “She is going to need a butterfly stitch.”
After I heard that, I screamed and said, “No I don’t want a butterfly stitch, just wrap up my head.” Finally, after a lot of bribing, I agreed to let the doctor put that butterfly stitch on my head. (actually it was just a band aid, but I thought he was using a needle and thread.”
To my surprise, my ordeal was not over yet. The doctor told my Mama to bring me into the office in a week to have the stitch removed. I was not happy about it and as soon as I got into the doctors office that day I began kicking, screaming, crying and running. I ran around the office and into the bathroom, back out and then climbed on a chair telling them they would never catch me.
A half hour later, I was under the doctors desk. I am sure my Mama was mortified, but I was not about to come from under that desk. I sat there pouting and whimpering when all of a sudden the doctor held out a piece of chocolate and I was tired and so hungry that I came from under my hiding place.
All the doctor had to do was take off the band aid and it did not hurt a bit. Plus the chocolate was good and worth hiding under the desk for.
I am not fond of dentists either. If I see mine in a store I hide. When I was about 5 for some reason my two front baby teeth had not come out. So it was decided to let the friendly dentist pull them out.
Again. I went into combat zone and kicked the dentist, jumped on his desk and flatly told him, he was not going to pull those teeth. Maybe I was scared, maybe I was just a brat. But, between the dentist , his secretary and my Mama, they held me down and yanked out those 2 teeth and I really thought I was going to die.
Through the years, I still hate going to the doctor or dentist but I can’t fit under the desk anymore. So, I worry and worry and worry. I think, “If I got a cold, maybe it is pneumonia; if I have high blood pressure, I think I may have a stroke; if my head hurts perhaps I have a brain tumor; if I see a cut or bruise on myself, I think it could get infected. So many things to consider.
Maybe I am a worry wart or a hypochondriac but I get nervous each time I have to go see a doctor or the dentist. What was really hard was being a mother of 4 children and having to take my kids in for their shots. They cried. I cried. And it even became harder to do once they were a little older. But hey, they got a sucker if they were good and you will never guess what I got..!
Are you scared of the doctor or dentist? Do you dread going? I hate to ask this but “ Have you ever hid under the doctors desk?” Let me know and I’ll give you a Penny for Your Thoughts.
