Don't let the title of this entry fool you. I have passed out in many doctor offices. But this time was probably my worst behavior to date.
It was after that neck surgery (sometimes I feel like my life is divided...before neck surgery, after neck surgery), and I had been off work for three weeks. I had an appointment to be "cleared" to go back to work. Of course, I was so positive I was going to be cleared that I had already arranged to return to work as soon as my appointment was over. I was so confident that I didn't even have anyone go to the appointment with me - I assumed I would run in, get cleared, and then go straight to work. Maybe I would stop and get a fountain soda, I don't know. But I was definitely going to work that day. I was stir-crazy at home and needed to get back into my routine.
Everything was going well - I was sitting in the exam chair, and about four doctors had already been in to see me. With the position of this tumor, I had several doctors assigned to my case. They were all pleased, and the last approval I needed was from my actual surgeon. He came in with a a few students (Nebraska Medicine is a learning hospital, think Grey's Anatomy) and he was like "Everything looks good, now let's get that glue off."
Yes. My neck was glued together at this point still. Of course, it had already healed, but there was still a mess of glue on my neck. I thought he would just take an end of it and pull - like when you were a kid, and you would rub Elmer's glue on your hand and then peel it off - but this industrial medical glue was a little different. He got a sharp tool, took it to my neck, and began to scrape.
And scrape. And scrape. The noise was too much, he was too close to my neck, there were too many people staring at me. I was going to pass out. I got that feeling and I told him.
"If you pass out, I am not clearing you to go back to work."
FUCK THAT. I tried, uncomfortably, to get my life together. I was all clammy and felt like I could go down at any minute, but I kept my mouth shut.
He finally got done, and said he wanted to take one more look at my most recent ultrasound before he cleared me officially. He and his entourage walked out of the room, and I hit the floor.
I didn't know what to do. I knew if I didn't get a cold compress and some water that I was going to pass out. But I literally couldn't stand up without passing out.
"Hello?" I yelled out, weakly. "Hello, is anyone out there?" The doctor and his brigade had left the exam room door open just a crack. I was softly moaning, because for some reason that helps me when I'm feeling this way.
A receptionist opened the door further and stuck her head in. "OH MY GOD!"
I stopped her. "I know, I know. I am going to faint unless I get a cold washcloth and some water. Can you help?"
She didn't say a word and walked away. She brought me back my requested items and asked what else she can do.
I was already feeling better, but I was too scared to get upright enough to get back into the chair. "I'm going to lay here and moan until the doctor comes back. Can you stand guard? Tell me when he's coming back."
She stood in the doorway, and I laid on the floor and did my moaning/breathing exercises. Then suddenly she goes "He's coming!" and I jumped back in the chair.
He was fine with my ultrasound, and since he hadn't seen the fucking ridiculous scene that just happened, he cleared me to go back to work.
What the actual fuck, Jen. Seriously. Why did I think that was okay? I have always wondered what was said about me after I left that office. That poor receptionist.