The germ freak inside....

          I should begin with a brief history. My father comes from a family that implanted the fear of germs into their heads. If this is what you grow up with, many things can seem gross and washing your hands a lot might be the least of your cleaning issues. My mother on the other hand, came from a household of the opposite mind.
          The example that best describes it is this: Whilst my mother finished up her last semester in college, my father lived with her parents. He really didn't want my grandmother making him lunch everyday (even if he couldn't cook a bit), because she and my grandfather were being so good to him. So at some point in the first two weeks he decided it was time to start making some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Oooo yeah! This my friends is quite a sacrifice, I will tell you. However this is not about my dad being a fair man. He got all the ingredients (so many there were, heh), but could not find the jelly. He asked my grandmother. She grabbed it out of the fridge. He opened it and at once noticed the mold. Almost as soon as he started the sentence ("Ummmm, there's some mold on this..."), my grandmother grabbed the jar. She said, "Let me see that." Then she got a knife, scraped it out, and promptly handed it back to him, saying, "There you go, good as new!" My father left horrified with nothing to do but eat it out of pure politeness. And probably avoid all peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in that house for a while.
          All my life I have had a mix of these two things. It is a good balance. I have however not gone untouched by the 'germ crazy'. I am definitely not a moldy food eater. It is a categorical fact that I wash my hands much too often. And what goes on in my head concerning germs is the most embarrassing and ridiculous germ crazy of all. That is what this is about.
          I was with my boyfriend on the beach the other night taking photos. I decided just to enjoy the fresh air, the sound of the waves, and watching his cute ass take photos from time to time (instead of taking any photos of my own). We did have to find a good spot to put his camera on first. He was playing with light and time for these specific photos. From this spot though what he would really need is a tripod. Neither of us has one. What he decided on was a garbage can. Great.
          He has no germs issues. In fact, when I am out and about and can not wash my hands, I don't worry about germs either. Okay it might cross my mind, but then it's gone. I think that's just a survival skill I've learned over years of public transport, planes, just living life. But then as I watched him set up my attention was monopolized, not by the sea, the sand or even his cute patootie.... but by the garbage can and the amount of it that was coming in contact with my boyfriend's clothes and hands. It's making me cringe now... a week later. Eeeek.
          I tried (repeatedly) to reason with myself. It's okay. No problem. I'm not touching it. But the other thoughts came in. And these thoughts are the killers. I can't even believe I'm sharing them. They go as follows..... 
           He will sit on the couch when we get home at some point. The couch I share with him. Will he wash his hands before making dinner? Is he going to touch my face when he kisses me? When he hugs me all my clothes will get garbageness on them. And so on.
           A bit irrational? Yes. Extreme? I would say so. So I kept telling myself, 'Just don't say anything when you get inside. Get over it . 'Noooo, problem. Right? All I had to do was use the tried and true method of mind over matter.... right? Right. 
          Is this what I did? Well, I tried. Vigorously. In my mind. But the nagging, no, gnawing, growing stress of the gross out factor and spreading of the germs all over the house overwhelmed me.
          I think what pushed me over the edge was when my sweet boyfriend came over and gave me a hug and kiss (with hands on face, by the way). What's worse, he was making sure I wasn't bored or too alone. He was being thoughtful and loving. I knew that. Nevertheless, all I could think about was the germs. Clearly I have a problem.
          Sadly, I didn't even make it the 2 minute walk home before I told him to make sure to wash his hands before making dinner. I did point out that I knew I was nuts. He agreed. I changed my outer layer of clothes when we got home. Luckily he did too, he favors pajamas at night... YAY for me! (Was that too enthusiastic?)
          My point? I don't remember. However, if you have anything strange and pervasive that invades your thoughts.... work on it. I'm still trying. Still I do think I will forever avoid moldy food. Just sayin'.

kimbersfrog
          

         
         

The waiting room...how i hate it!!!!

           Let me begin by saying what we all know is true. No matter how inviting they think they've made the waiting room, it never really is. The waiting room is not the only reason I don't look forward to the doctor with childish glee, but at least a third of it. At least.
           We can start small if you like. What about the fact that they've been using the same highlights, women's days, farmer's almanacs, science mags (only one type of course), soap opera's digests, and people mags for the same 20 to 30 years. Really? They couldn't just get one or two subscriptions and have some new reading material, for the extraordinarily long wait time we all are going to have to endure? Couldn't that be considered torture? And how slimy with bacteria are those magazines anyway? Day after day, month after month, year after year, being touched and prodded (oh and don't forget the lick your finger to turn the page people), all by sick people or people who are caring for sick people. People who have just wiped their nose on their ineffective now broken tissue. Need I go on?
          That quite nicely brings me to my next issue. The lovely atmoshpere. You walk in past the coughing and snotting people to the little window. As you are introducing yourself, you try not to notice all the greasy fingerprints and hand smears at the bottom... knowing full well that they are also on the pen you will be shoved in just a second. You can't do anything about it, because once again, you forgot a pen, as you do every time. Of course you were more interested in making sure you had clean underwear and non-smelly socks at the doctor's office. Inevitably you hear some heinous hacking behind you (probably a little too close for comfort). Usually it's a wet one. The question that comes to mind first? Do I have a giant loogie on my back? The waiting area is just an uncomfortable germ infested primitive place in which we are forced to sit and sit and sit.
             The wait is so long yet always, they have such truly uncomfortable chairs. I'm pretty sure doctors have heard of lumbar support. I know doctors are over worked, and over booked. However if they know and we know that there is going to be a huge wait, couldn't there be blankets and a cot? Anything to make it more bearable.
             It might be why they went for T.V. in the waiting rooms. Is it necessary to have the T.V. on? I think not. There are one of three things on, in any office, a game show (Price is Right or Wheel of Fortune), news or soap operas. None of these are good options. The state people are in, news and soap operas can worsen their mood in a nano-second. Bad move. Games shows have a better chance, but you also always get that annoying person who enjoys shouting out answers or just claps or yahoos, which annoys everyone else. Oh yeah, and did I mention they put it on just loud enough for everyone to know it's on but not loud enough for anyone to know what is being said?
             Then of course there is the actual doctor's office. It is generally better. It's also much easier to believe that it's free of germs. I generally have no problems exactly with doctors, but it's not usually thrilling either. One option, I'm there because something is  wrong. That's not happy. Or I'm there because I have to be for an analysis for the year or whatever. I am getting older you know. If it's for an analysis- that means needles and urine. Yuk and yuk.
            So this was the reason I saw the doctor today. An analysis, getting to know your new doctor's office analysis. Yippee! Even better, after only 5 hours of sleep, I got to get up at 7 to get there by 8... wow so lucky am I. I am in a different country now. Things are a bit different. I will say, although the waits can be long they are not consistently. And there are no magazines in the waiting area- one problem solved. There is no T.V.- two problems solved. Chairs... still horribly uncomfortable. And although there is still the human contingent, somehow the place seems much cleaner. Maybe it's the lack of decorating, maybe not, I don't really care. It's nice. It's also nice that the door is left open.
          The urine. Don't worry, I won't go into too much detail. Promise! But if you here what they have a person do you might understand another reason it's so clean in there. The time I went in to meet my doctor, she said she wanted an analysis, so I made the appointment at the desk. Before the woman let me leave she handed me a plastic bag with  a plastic cup. I glanced at it, and put it in my bag and left. Later, I looked more carefully. Actually there were also two test tubes. True. So now I'm quite confused (as if I wasn't already a bit doubtful on how to walk for ten minutes without spilling my urine out of a plastic cup with no top). I ask my boyfriend, what's up with the test tubes? He briefly looked, he said he wasn't sure but it's pretty obvious right, you put your pee in them. Oh, so I felt a bit ridiculous for not figuring it out. Still, all I could think of was spilling all over the place, I'm quite good at klutzy. My point being, everyone does the dirty bit at home, cleans it up before they come, and the toilets there aren't puddles with urine. Again problem solved!

             Now, for the blood draw. I always hate this. I know it doesn't hurt, not really. Yet I can't stand it. Luckily, it was smooth. Actually I almost didn't feel it at all. Truly shocking. But as per usual I did not stay the five minutes after the blood draw. Nor did I eat something like a cookie. I just went on my merry way. And that is all there is to say.

         

kimbersfrog