I know that there are questions at the doctor's office that they are required to ask. I know that these doctors, nurses, LPNs, or whatever 30-hour program graduate working there this week don't actually care about the answers. They just have to ask them. And I assume most people just answer they way they're expected to answer, which is the path of least resistance. Frankly, some of these people don't know much more English than it takes to ask the question so if I gave more than a one-word answer I'd have to explain myself in Spanish anyway, which is not worth the potential help I could get. But wait, I have passed myself. Let me elaborate.
Question 1: At the doctor's office with Brynn for her 12 month checkup, which miraculously was only 3 months late... anyway, it was 8am, Jacob was being an absolute shit, and Bean was of course curious about everything in the office except the doctor (who she refused to let touch her.) The very pleasant doctor, or maybe nurse practitioner, eyed my big belly and obnoxious children and asked me kindly how I was doing. "Are you feeling any stress?"
Lady, I have a 3 year old and a one year old. In three short, short months I will have an infant, too. I spend nearly every waking second with these children, who I adore but are none too slowly driving me mad. I live 1600 miles from my family and have not much in the way of babysitters and my husband works 13 hour days and so their care relies almost entirely on me and I have to bring them everywhere I go. It's hard to feel sorry for yourself (out loud) when everyone around you has no husband at all, though, so I just keep that bottled up. My son refuses to be potty trained and I have a growing fear that I will soon have three children in diapers. Oh, I'm sorry, Pull-Ups. I hate the city I live in so much that sometimes I have "sad days." I try to keep myself just busy enough to forget the fact that I live in a hovel slapped on top of a garbage dump, but then I look out the window and it all comes rushing back. Also, there is a funky smell in my kitchen that I absolutely cannot locate.
Yes, sometimes I do have stress. But does this nice lady want to hear about any of those things? Will that solve anything? What will she do, besides send me up to psych, when I start crying because even though I only have one pair of shorts that fit, I don't know enough people after 20 months here to notice or care? So I just say, "I'm doing fine." And we smile, and move on. Path of least resistance.
Question 2: At the OB clinic, they ask you the same questions every time. Here is where the non-English lady enters the picture, and half the time she doesn't even wait for my answer before she checks a box on my chart. "Smoke or drink?" No, same as last time, but if I took it up halfway through pregnancy I wouldn't tell you about it. Here is the one that gets me: "Are you having any pain today?" Madam, I am 27 weeks pregnant with my third child in less than four years. Body parts I didn't know I had are swollen or afflicted in ridiculous ways. I cannot eat or drink anything without acid reflux threatening to actually eat through my sternum and leak out between my massive bosoms. Which, by the way, have reached new hugeness this time around and not only don't fit into the 18 hour/gelpad straps/Big Black Momma bras I owned, but I think may be the source of some of my frequent backaches. The other component possibly being that there is a small person hanging off the front of me. I pee when I sneeze, laugh, cough or blow my nose. My ankles swell if I stand for more than two minutes, my eyeballs sizzle in the sun, and if I cross my legs, fighting their urge to pop back apart due to fatness, they fall asleep.
In short, I am literally beginning to fall apart. And yes, it does hurt. But, if I explain all these things to Lupe with the blood pressure cuff, what good will it do? None. They won't give me Quaaludes to see me through the next 13 weeks, they will not provide me with a home epidural kit (don't think I haven't asked) and when I confess that individually none of these problems is higher than a 5 on the smiley face pain chart, she will simply note something on my chart that no one will ever look at and it will be forgotten until next time I come in and someone asks me if I'm having any pain today. That's under the assumption she would even understand what I'm saying, which is a long shot in the first place. So I smile, think of all the things I could complain about but don't because I'm such a good patient (and know complaining won't help anyway) and I say, "No. Not really." Path of least resistance.
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