"I found it hard, it was hard to find. Oh well, whatever, nevermind"

More Nirvana because the CD was still in the car this morning and radio sucks some serious ass until Getting Sick Of Coming Up With A Fake Name Town comes into view. So, Rock turned the CD on and we both lost ourselves as we drove along the high way, stopping only for gas at the station in the small town where Rock grew up.

It was one of those days when I felt as though I could drive (or ride, as the case may be) forever. Just keep going and going until I ran out of gas or my rumbling stomach forced me to stop. Or my pinching bladder. But my poor bladder has been denied regular peeing opportunities because it’s just not worth it most of the time.

I’m getting off track.

Today was all about more distraction and lots of pretending. It was easy today. Easy to slip into a pattern and a life that I had almost forgotten about. Funny how we do that, eh? Forget about the good parts. Forget about the laughter and the shared inside jokes. Forget about the connection that drew you together in the first place and wonder how or where you lost it along the way. Start combing the side of the highway, like looking for a hub cap that danced off of a wheel when you drove over a particularly defined bump in the crumbling pavement, searching for the piece of “us” that fell off along the way.

It was easy to pretend.

Today was the day we made the trip to Middle Town to meet with the new family physician, having been graciously tipped off by Miss MellowDee. Mel, I cannot thank you enough. Just know that if and when I win that dog forsaken lottery, you and J are gonna make that film, no holds barred, no questions asked. I just want a cameo, okay? I want to walk through a scene a la Alfred Hitchcock. Deal? No? Okay, then. I just want to watch shooting one day. Just one day. And I want a trailer. That would be fun. It would be one rockin’ trailer, I can tell you that! Ha! Okay…getting off on a tangent, in typical janetk style….My point is that I need to thank you again for the inside tip. You have no idea, girl….

Now where the hell was I?

Right….

We went to meet and greet with the new physician.

I wanted to cry when we left. I wanted to climb into the car and bury my head in my hands and cry and cry and cry. I almost cried in the examining room. I think Dr. Abu Dieh could tell, actually. Because he kept smiling at me and he kept saying, “It’s okay, Janet. It’s okay…”

When I walked out, I heard a voice in my head say, “throw your head back and say thank you, Janet”. So I did. Right there in the parking lot, under a sunny sky, even though every weather forecaster had predicted a day full of cold rain. I threw my little blond head back, raised my arms in the arm and said, “thank you”.

This Universe of ours, folks…pretty mind blowing stuff.

Now, I just * know * that you want details, don’t you? I mean, nothin’ says blogging like a detailed list of everything that happened at a doctor’s appointment, right? Ha. Too fucking bad…I’m too excited to hold it in. You’re getting a list…

· Parking at the hospital where Dr. Abu Dieh’s office is located is only two dollars. Not two dollars an hour. Two dollars, total, no matter if you’re there all fucking day. I’m pretty sure that parking at the children’s hospital starts at four dollars an hour for a maximum of seventeen dollars or something like that….so two bucks is, well, amazing.

· The receptionist is nice. Really nice. If you don’t think that this is a big deal, you’ve obviously never been reamed out by someone who thinks you have a cold when really you’re crying over test results. OR you’ve obviously never had a receptionist yell out, “LOW LYING PLACENTA!” in a crowded waiting room and felt like fucking dying as every pregnant face turns to stare at you, the pregnant anomaly.

· He was on time. Right on time. ‘Nuff said.

· He was nice. Compassionate. Caring. Loving, even. He was gentle with Michael. He obviously still had that “I’m gonna help people” passion that doctors graduate with but lose along the way. He called me by my name, Janet, instead of addressing me like I wasn’t really in the room or like I was a number instead of a person. And he called me Janet as soon as he walked in the door, which meant that he read the sheet before he entered. Amazing.

· He listened to me. I mean, * really * listened to me. And he asked me about everything. And I mean, * everything *. He made eye contact while he was listening, he took in everything I said, everything I offered about Mr. Michael and he never, not even once, dismissed what I was saying.

· He offered explanation. On lots of things. He explained to me the reasons for waiting until the age of two before further examination takes place. He explained to me about why he will wait until two to test for asthma (private message for you, Pam, very soon because I took your words with me and grabbed onto some courage from you, too…thanks) and then explained what he believes is happening with Michael’s lungs and muscles. He explained reflux as it pertains to children Michael’s age and he speculated that the reflux might not be the thing that causes the poor muscles tone but rather the other way around and I swear to Dog, it was like a fucking light bulb went off over my head and that’s when the tears started to prickle because it made sense. Goddammit, it made sense.

· He told me that I can call him. I did a double take, I swear to Dog. He said that if Michael was sick and I didn’t want to go to the ER with him, I could phone. I really wanted to cry at that.

· He examined Michael. Checked out more than his weight and such. He really looked, really listened and really cared. The same level of care I’ve only up until now associated with the professionals at the children’s hospital. And he said he’d like to follow up every three months. Another double take. And more fighting the tears.

· And he asked about me. I almost couldn’t speak. And he was just as compassionate and just as caring with me as he was with Michael. I will return to him in a couple of months for a physical and you know what? I’m not going to put it off because I don’t feel like puking at the thought of him examining me like I do with Dr. Asshole. I will wait a few months, even though I can get in right away (another, “holy fuck” moment, let me tell you) because of the shame I have right now. I don’t want anybody to look.

So, that’s why I just HAD to throw my head back and give thanks to the Universe for plopping this into my lap. And that’s why I will thank Mel again for the tip. I really believe that Michael is finally going to get the level of care that he needs and deserves. And I might get some at the same time….stranger things have happened.

Any appointment is just an excuse to go shopping for Rock and I. Ha. So we hit a couple of stores before the appointment and afterwards, we went out for lunch together. Memories of Emma being a baby flooded both of us…that first child syndrome when you really have no idea what parenting can have in store for a person. We actually ate a real restaurant, not a fast food, paper napkins kind of place. And it was nice. Really, really nice. Reminded me of why I chose Rock as my best friend in the first place (and now I’m thinking of Gwen saying, “best friends who share children”….that’s it exactly).

Our conversation over lunch turned into a direction that we haven’t visited in a while. The day was for pretending but neither of us could stop ourselves from delving into some more of the truth. That’s another post for another day. Suffice it to say that the road just keeps getting more and more twisted and I’m still not sure from one day to the next which direction I’m headed in.

After lunch, we still had some time before we needed to go home and we still had some stuff to pick up so we visited the big, super fucking Wal Mart that has just recently opened. You know the one that has a grocery store, too?

Well, holy fuck. Janetk had died and gone to shopaholic heaven! I could have stayed all day, roaming around, browsing and buying. I didn’t get much besides baby food and Febreze and hair gel. But Rock bought me a pair of shoes for summer, which was awfully sweet of him. They have skulls on them. And not girly skulls, either! Scary lookin’ skulls! They are awesome. And now I just need ankle socks….

It was a good day. A day for forgetting and pretending and distracting. At least for the most part.

And then we drove home. And the car in front of us had a bumper sticker that said, “Life Is Good”. And I thought, “yes, it is…”

Until we got closer and closer to the house. To our town. And the pain started in my legs. They’ve been worked out a lot more than usual lately. And I had to pee. And it hurt. And the pressure in my abdomen gained in intensity. And I felt like I might give birth to a bowling ball through my ass. And the nag in the back of my head started up again, chanting the same words all over again. She’s getting harder and harder to ignore lately and I’m not entirely sure that I will be able to hold her off. That would be three. Three in a row. And a physical will just be pushed behind.

And that car…that “Life Is Good” car seemed so far away