Dr. No

I went to the doctor today for what I thought was a short “check up” to “Get me in the system” meaning TriCare – the health plan for all members of the military. I had some routine things – weight, temperature, BP, etc. which was high and the nurse didn’t get my joke that my BP has performance anxiety and is always high when someone checks it.

Three times … still high. She puts a red flag on it for the doctor. The fuh?

Then I go through the third degree where she racks up more things to do to me, smiling wickedly the whole time. I have a feeling she was not very popular in nursing school.

Did you know you need a tetanus shot every 10 years? I was scolded for not having one up to date. Shame on me. It’s not like I am habitually coming into contact with rusty nails (But doesn’t that sould like a cool name for a band? "Tonight! Tentanus Shot and the Rusty Nails!" It’s mine. I am copyright protecting it tomorrow).

Anyway…

So I get a shot. Then, Nurse Ratchet checks my record and proclaims, “It’s been over a year since your last pap! We need to correct that right away!” I swear she squealed with delight and clapped her hands.

Let me tell you, getting a Pap Smear is never the idea of a good time for any girl. Getting a surprise Pap Smear? That's just playing dirty. Why not just tell me that I am also going into labor?

An hour and several tests and exams later I am on my way - shaking and dazed - with an appointment time for MORE blood work. This time, I know in advance that a needle’s comin’ at me.

And no one will be anywhere near my cookie.

New Member Open House

I survived my first Spouses' Club mixer. But not without inadvertently signing myself up for, like, eight committees and groups. Am I interested in seeing a Broadway production of The Lion King? Yep! Do I want a free facial from Mary Kay? Sure! Do I want to join a book club where they read books meant for adults (and not from the Chick Lit section of Borders)? Of course! Do I want to join arts and crafts and learn how to make my very own Christmas cards? Sign. Me. Up.

I get very flustered very easily and, when bombarded by throngs of 30-to-70-somethings thrusting sign-up sheets and pamphlets in my face, I lost it a little. At least I had the good sense to wear black to absorb my nervous sweat without being conspicuous. Did you know that not a lot of people in San Antonio wear black? Something about it absorbing heat, what with all the hotness and the Africa-like conditions and everything. I suspect this is also why I have the only black car in the Lone Star State.

The whole “Open House” experience is not unlike the first day of Sorority Rush – except instead of asking your major, they ask your husband’s rank and position (Note: I should probably learn this info). I got so many confused looks when I admitted I was from Cleveland and a “new to all of this Army stuff” I felt like I was hosting a junior high Quiz Bowl match.

… for those of you playing along, it’s because there is no Army base in Cleveland and most Army wives on Fort Sam Houston have been living on or near bases their entire lives. Someone even asked me if it was near Schofield Barracks (On Oahu, Hawaii) and I was all, "Oh, honey."

The bright spot at this event is that I actually made a friend! Look at me go with my social butterfly-ness! Ironically, I would have met her anyway since her husband works with mine but it was nice to know she didn’t routinely wear a scrunchie OR a vest, she loves reality TV and she’s actually from Rocky River! So we had a lot in common. What a relief. Now I’ll have someone to go to bunco parties with. Yes, I made a point to signed up for that event …. but mostly because booze was involved.

Hello ... My name is Awkward

It had to happen eventually: I am attending my first Fort Sam Houston Spouse’s Club function tomorrow.

I’m really nervous. What will these ladies be like? Will they like me? Will I succumb to my “nervous talking thing” and spurt out whatever ridiculous nonsense that comes to my head? (Note: this is often comical to witness at bars, not so much at job interviews…). What if they’re all wearing scrunchies and tapestry vests and ask me to be part of their needlepoint group that meets on Thursdays? Or their scrapbooking weekends? (Note: I am not hating on the hobby of scrapbooking, but me? With a scrapbook and stickers and construction paper? Just … no. I don’t even have my wedding photos yet. I know, this is disgraceful in more ways than one. We’ve been married for four years.)

Worse yet: will they bring their gaggle of children and then interrogate me on my failure to procreate?

I feel like I am getting ready to start my first day of junior high. I’m off to wash my face with Seabreeze, tease my hair with Stiff Stuff and dig out my Hypercolor shirt.