Friday, May 4, 2012
This morning, I met my new oncologist for a routine followup. (You may recall, my doctor of 13 years recently left clinical practice for an administrative position.) I took the boys to school, then drove to the medical center. As I sat in the waiting room, my nose started to drip, and I had to search for a tissue. Oh. I'm nervous, I realized. Usually it happens in conversation. Some people blush, my nose drips. Come to think of it, I blush, too.
After the medical assistant took me back to the exam room and weighed me, took my temperature, and worried over my low blood pressure ('It's always like that!' I tried to reassure her), I looked around the room, and noticed my new doctor has a bachelor's degree from Harvard in Comparative Religion. I decided I liked that in an oncologist. She came in a moment later, before I had a chance to peruse the certificates identifying where she went to medical school and did her residency, and as we talked, I realized my nose was no longer dripping.
Wishing you and yours a relaxing weekend.