annual physical exam (m)

I'm sitting on the edge of the table, clad in a hospital gown, a lovely shade of sea foam green.  I have an excellent memory for all things visual and I recall sitting in the same room, same time last year (roughly), wearing a crimson gown.  I think the sea foam is a size smaller because I remember the assistant looking at me last year, groaning, and reaching in the cabinet for the crimson gown.  I do recall having seen the green  ones then, thinking I would look better in that color.  I'm sure she didn't give it to me because it wouldn't have fit then.   I feel like I've been promoted.

The medical assistant (who just six months ago was a file clerk) wants me to step on the scale. "No," I say, "I don't do that."  She doesn't know what to do.  This is unorthodox.  She stares at her clipboard and I can tell she's frozen, unable to move on to the blood pressure check.

She leaves the room.  I'm guessing she's calling the authorities on me.  I'm right.  In walks Dr. Uber WASP.

Dr. Well, hello!  How are you?
Me: Fine, thank you.  And you?
Dr. Uh, fine.  Have you lost some weight since last year?
Me: (Pissed.  This woman's known me for 12 years.  I've lost 70 pounds and she's genuinely wondering if I've lost some weight.  Not a boatload. Some.)  Yes, I have.
Dr. Well then, why can't we weigh you?

Good question.  I have no answer other than, "I'd prefer not to."    I don't want to start the visit with a bad number, even if it's better than it's been in years.  I hate scales.

The medical assistant starts the blood pressure read and the doctor begins the exam soon afterwards.

She asks what's new and I start to cry.  I tell her about my mother.  She looks genuinely empathetic.  I like her more because of that.

My EKG was normal.  My blood pressure was 110/70.   I have a mammogram and colonoscopy scheduled for this month.

The exam ends and my doctor looks at me and smiles.  "I can't wait to see less of you next year."

I may even get on the scale then.