doctor's notes

I went to the doctor's office tonight. I had to wait for over an hour, which was surprisingly okay. I almost finished Barack Obama's book. It is fascinating. He cemented his place as my imaginary political boyfriend. [Not to be confused with my imaginary boyfriends in other fields: radio (Ira Glass), tv (Jon Stewart), comics (Craig Thompson), and movies (Johnny Depp & Gael Garcia Bernal).] The man can write.

I had a doctor's appointment a month ago. I got a Plan B perscription - mostly because I had money to spend on medical things before the end of the year & had just read an article suggesting that women should keep Plan B on hand, just in case, for themselves or to be a superheroine for a friend in crisis. It was interesting to see the looks the pharmacists gave me as I picked up the pills. The doctor that I spoke with then encouraged me to set up an appointment to talk further about contraception. . . that was part of tonight's appointment.

I felt a bit pathetic in this sterile doctor's office, with a Bill Nye don't-overuse-antibiotics poster on the wall, telling my white lab-coated physician and her shadowing medical student that I am no longer dating anyone and don't think contraception will be much of an issue for me in the short term. The medical student assured me that I am young and there are plenty of fish in the sea. . . and that I should come back to talk about contraception after I've found someone new. . . It was very sweet, but I'm not fond of stranger's pity.