I grew up, (OK, honestly, I probably haven't completely grown up---thank goodness, and Haime seems to be regressing), in the 70s. This was an interesting time for music. Styles of music were as varied as the genres with which they were labeled. Many of the songs written during this time had war protests and social commentary themes while others were just fun. I've previously written how song titles sometimes just pop into my head when I see or experience things and yesterday was another one of those days.
I had an appointment with my G.P. doc scheduled for next week, actually, it was for Friday (yes, the day after Thanksgiving). I'm not a fan of doctor visits. Fortunately, I am basically in great health and since jumping on the "weight war" and "exercise" wagon, I think I'm getting healthier still. But, since I've passed the "50-year" mile marker, I'm trying to be an adult about some things so I started going to have an "annual screening" a couple of years ago...crap. Anyway, I found a G.P. that I just love. She is roughly my age, slightly overweight herself and has a GREAT personality. Her straight-forward and friendly manner and her honest "I know exactly what you mean" ways of listening, make her a perfect choice for me. She was actually a referral from a friend whose opinion I trust. I started seeing her when I was still working in San Antonio and she kept late office hours so it worked out great. On the down side, she has changed her office hours and is now only in the most convenient location on every-other Saturday. Most days she works at one of the hospitals through one of the universities in S.A.
A couple of months ago, I was sick with some type of bug. One of the negatives of seeing a G.P. who is only available two Saturdays per month, is that when you want to see her for some bug, you are basically outta luck. It has been my experience that bugs don't cooperate and present themselves only at the most inopportune times. I elected to let my body fight the bug on its own and fortunately it worked out just fine. It might have taken a little longer but I reasoned that my immune system needed to exercise itself anyway. However, I started thinking that this might be some sort of sign that I should find a G.P. that is more available. Then I got better so I didn't give it any more thought.
As part of the annual check-up, I report to the office about a week prior to my scheduled visit for blood work. In-so-doing, the report is back when I visit with the doc. So, off I went to see "Vampira." When I arrived to have a blood sample collected, the receptionist told me that they had no record of my appointment in the computer. I showed her my "don't-be-a-moron-and-forget-you-have-an-appointment" card on which the date and time clearly showed my appoint for Friday, November 23 at 8:00 AM; (I ask, what kind of masochist makes a Dr.'s appointment for the day after Thanksgiving AND schedules it for 8:00 AM? Actually, I reasoned that if I made such a ridiculous appointment, it would help me resist the extra dressing and pumpkin pie...at least I hoped it would). The nice receptionist apologized and said that not only did they not show my appointment in their system, the office was to be closed that day due to the Thanksgiving holiday. Well crap! (Holy smokes, that's two "craps" so far in this blog, can you tell I'm a bit peeved?)
So, now you see where the Five Man Electrical Band's 1971 hit "Signs" came from. Just in case you need some help remembering their contribution to the social commentary songs of the early 70s, here's the chorus:
"Signs, signs, everywhere there's signs.
Blocking out the scenery, breaking my mind.
Do this! Don't do that! Can't you read the signs."
I've decided to heed the signs this time and am currently on the hunt for a new, more conveniently located and more readily accessible G.P. Sometimes being an adult really stinks!
TTFN
Lois
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