Pap smear...make my day!

I went to the doctor today. Because I know no one here, I had to drag all three kids along. I was just going to get some refills on prescriptions, of course it's got to turn into a whole lot more than that! To make matters worse, I had hubby make the appointment and he likes to see me suffer.

So I'm at the reception desk checking in. I give the lady my name and she pulls my paperwork while saying, "You're here for the pap?" Sympathy seeps from her. "Uh....I sure hope not." I look down at the three young children scrambling uncontrollably around my legs. "It says right here you're scheduled for a pap." "Well, I just needed some prescription refills. Can't the fun stuff wait till I'm alone? Unless you'd like to babysit the kids for me while I get my kicks for the day?"

So I get into the office and start talking to the doc. She doesn't want to give me my meds until she sees proof that I'm on these meds. Well, I tell her, I could show you the patch on my ass to prove I'm using my birth control. Now, I'm a little confused. Why does a doc need to know I'm already using birth control to prescribe me more? You'd think when a 24 year old woman walks into the doctors office with 3 young children in tow asking for birth control you'd be more than willing to give it to her. I would practically be throwing it at the woman! I'm finally able to convince the doc to refills my patches. Now I've got to go to the pharmacy to wait another hour in a cramped waiting room.

Picture the scenario..a bunch of old military retirees getting their meds and me with my 3 CRAZY children who all happen to be under the age of 4. The waiting room is packed, stuffy, and stinky. You know that smell hospitals get, too many disinfectants, too little air freshening. The seniors in the room begin smiling at the cute little children, patting heads, asking questions. Within 10 minutes, the room is clearing quickly. Most are wondering whether they really need the drugs that bad today. Some are checking their number over and over, hoping they are next. And I'm sitting in a corner pulling out my last strands of hair. I know, I have this distorted idea that pulling out my hair will make my children start behaving, weird.

So, finally, my numbers is called (the waiting room collectively breaths a huge sigh of relief) and I walk my now bald head up to the counter. I beg the lady behind the counter to hurry. What do you think she says? "Ma'am we don't normally carry this type of birth control." At this point I begin to laugh. Not that Ha-ha-you-are-one-funny-broad type laugh, that I'm-going-to-snap-blow-up-the-hospital-and-run-my-car-off-a-cliff laugh. Of course, blondie behind the counter is staring at me. "I'll get my supervisor." she says. I just smile and nod. By this time I think I've made my point. Get me the birth control or I'm going to continue to reproduce! Her supervisor informs me he's getting the prescription from one of the other pharmacies in the hospital and it'll be ready within 10 minutes. The poor people in the waiting room got one more dose of my clan. Thankfully we only caused two heart failures, 3 panic attacks, and 1 hernia. Okay, so I don't think we caused the hernia, but the old man swears it was our fault. Damn sue happy Americans.