To know me is to know I’m not a hugger. I try to go to Mass at least twice a month (besides all the times I get to go through school). The most stressful part of Mass is the “Our Father.”
First you have to figure out, are the people next to you the kind that hold hands or not. If it’s a school mass, I know we will hold hands, but do I really want to hold the sticky, dirty hand of the kid next to me. The kid who is next to me so I can keep an eye on them?
As we pray the prayer Jesus taught us to pray, I try to focus as my eyes dart back and forth, surveying the scene. What is my position? Do I turn left first for the sign of peace? Or the right? Am I the person on the left’s only option if counting by twos. Or is it a case where they will turn the other way because it is a friend/spouse? How crowded is the pew? Will I need to turn around or engage the people behind me.
Once I determine an action plan, I am bombarded with the next problem. Do I hug or shake? I am not a hugger. I am an awkward hugger. I don’t think Jesus meant the sign of peace to be such an anxiety inducing experience. I shared my personal anxiety about this area of mass with my 6th grade students this year. They had the best response ever. All of them just make eye contact and flash peace signs at me. I love them.
It’s Tuesday morning and I’m in the exam room at the doctor’s office. I’ve asked Dave to stay in the waiting room. I don’t want him to inadvertently talk over me out of concern. If he is needed, we’ll send for him.
Dr. McHH walks in the room. He sighs and gives me a look of empathy and compassion. I’m immediately seized by anxiety. Is this a hugging moment?
We have hugged once before, immediately after the birth of my second child and he congratulated me. There are a lot of emotions in a birthing room.
This time it’s quiet and just the two of us. It feels like I should hug him. Do I hug him? He sort of squats down, but he is also placing his laptop on the side table. I would have to get up. What if I bump into him in the process? That would be worse. The moment passes. We don’t hug.
Only I, while spasming and jerking, barely able to speak, would be stressing over whether this is one of those times where you are supposed to hug. I probably would have started crying so maybe it’s better that we didn’t.
He sits down and we begin going over the situation. I notice a small yellow stain on his lavender shirt just above his waist. Mustard? It’s a little early in the day for mustard, but he is Canadian. I silently tsk. Might be time to retire the lavender shirt, it’s had a good run.
Focusing, I try to share my frustration. The good news is my principal, Rick, has personally contacted a neurologist to get me next week. Dave acting as my personal secretary, had spent over a half hour dealing with the “Danish” medical system. When you going in through the ER, there is no actual referral. So when your discharge papers say to follow up in a few weeks with a neurologist, they have no record of you.
A week still felt like a long time away. I wanted an EEG. Dr. McHH stepped out of the room and came back with an appointment for a neurologist in 4 days. After examining me, he thought to ask about how my IUD was feeling (the whole thing that started this mess). I shared that it hurt. It felt like back labor (thank you Linus for teaching me about back labor). Feeling overly cautious, Dr. McHH referred me for an ultrasound, suggested I do it close to when I’m seeing the neurologist.
Dr. McHH listened to me about how much I disliked the tourette medication and gave me permission to stop. At the end of the appointment, I felt some relief that there was a short term plan. I don’t know if he blocked out the time or just ignored his other patients, but my 15 minutes appointment was close to 45 minutes.
As I walked toward the exit, a nurse saw me twitching away. She’s not Dr. McHH’s nurse, but occasionally she has covered his patients. We chatted a bit. My doctor’s office just expanded and moved to a larger building. Now none of the receptionists know me. Having a nurse stop and check in with me made the office, even with all the recent changes, feel like a safe, personal place.
Back home, Dave scheduled my ultrasound for right after neurology. Dr. McHH let me know I could cancel my other neurologist. I have mixed feelings about that, since Rick went to extra lengths to get the appointment. For now, I’m keeping it. I just want to get to the bottom of this.