I wore my lucky green ninja turtle shirt today. It's not really a Ninja Turtle shirt; it's a Crayola green T-shirt with, what, canary yellow? collar and sleeve cuffs, and terribly comfortable. When I showed it to Grammy, she said, "Oh. It's just like the Ninja Turtles." I was surprised she had any recollection of that cartoon. "Yes! It is very much like the Ninja Turtles."
I did as I was told and called PromptCare at 9am this morning. And at quarter past noon I walked out with my completed Certificate of Health. I promptly went to Subway and got lunch, then mailed the certificate to the Consulate General. <sigh of relief>
Dr. Catney talked me into getting the chest X-ray, even though it would cost extra. He sent me over to the Imaging Center where I signed in and waited, working on my diagramless crossword puzzle (confound it!). My name was called, and who was calling it but Sandy Thompson... er, Kimber. I hadn't known she worked there. So she got some information from me, mostly about billing (No, I have no insurance. Yes, I'm paying for this up front). Then I got to wait again (and actually snuck a peak at the crossword puzzle's hint: the first word starts in the fifteenth column!) until a radiologist called me to have the X-ray taken. I thought I would have to lie down, but actually I just stood up in front of some... thing, inside of which the plates were located, with the X-ray machine positioned behind me. Very quick. The only thing I don't understand is that it costs $85 for a set of chest X-rays, and then an additional fee is charged for a radiologist to read the film. The first requires the second, since I am not medically qualified to read my own films--so why not combine the charges? Silliness, I tell you, pure silliness.
So I had a real chest X-ray, and a real urinalysis, but most everything else they could only ask me. It probably would've been better to see Dr. Koshy, since she was our family physician for a few years, but since that wasn't possible Dr. Catney made the best of it. He read down the check-off list on the form. "Are you diabetic?" No. "Do you have heart disease?" No. "Do you have a history of psychosis?" No. "No psychosis?" Laughing, No. He's a good-natured fellow. I mentioned the vertigo, and told him I wasn't on any medication; he apparently didn't think enough of it to mention it on the form. Their measuring stick had broken off of their scale, so they took me at my word when I said I'm 5'7. That's not so far from the truth, which is closer to 5'6½ with my shoes off.
When everything was done, Dr. Catney handed me the certificate. "Look it over, make sure I didn't miss anything." I was reading down the page when he said, "Oh, I remember what I forgot. What colour is your shirt?"
"Green..." and then I remembered the colour-blind test. Woo! Passed with flying, um, colours.
Which reminds me: Amazingly, when the nurse had me read the eyesight chart, I was able to read the 20/15 line with my right eye and the 20/13 line with my left (glasses on). I've had these glasses since my senior year of high school, and keep intending to get new ones. It seems rather incredible that all this time I've been complaining about my better-than-average vision.
Of course with the glasses off I can barely make out the giant E at the top of the screen.
Again with the earwax. For years Dr. Koshy had told me, in her lovely Indian accent, "You have very clean ears, Emily!" (though certainly through no action of my own). But the last time I saw her, a few years ago, she made no comment about the condition of my ears. When I went to the Student Health Center in November 2002, the nurse who checked my ears said they had some wax build up. And today the good doctor told me that I should have my ears cleaned; he recommended a one-to-one hydrogen peroxide and water solution. I tried it tonight, but I have no idea if I did it right. I used Dad's OTC eardrops first, then used the rubber syringe to squirt the warm solution in, but I think all I accomplished was getting myself wet. We shall see.
Old Comments (2)