Verbal Diarrhea Diaries – aka the shit that come out of my mouth:
A friend has had stomach problems for nearly a week. Well, nearly a week in which he has admitted it. Knowing him, it was going on for much longer. And why doesn’t he go to the doctor, you (and I) ask?
Quote– I know… I need to see the Dr.. but I am afraid — unquote
Of course me, being the caring, compassionate, being that I am (*cough/wheeze/choke/hack* – dang I can’t even say that in a blog with a straight face- responds as follows:
“Go right ahead and keep on procrastinating seeing the doctor. I declare if I have to come visit you in a hospital because you let something minor turn into something major, all because you were afraid, I am going to redefine the word harangue so badly as to make a filibuster seem a like mere quip!”
Want to take three guesses on who made an appointment -in my presence- to see the doctor on Friday?
As a child I was quite afraid of doctors, especially one who is smiling with one hand behind his back. I became diabetic at age 15, and so started injecting myself daily so that I’m no longer afraid of the needles, and I’ve long since gotten used to the doctors.
That said, I do not go to a doctor until I’m really sure that the problem isn’t going to go away by itself. Plenty of problems (health and others) do go away if left alone, as they probably weren’t really problems to begin with. I’ve never been fond of what I’ll call “insurance mentality”, in which one can be driven nuts by responding to every tiny problem (or noise, in the case of one’s car) in the belief that one is preventing a much more serious problem.
As such, that friend you described could easily have been me.
I give up… who??