Sour Patch Kids
Sitting alone in a doctor’s office waiting to be seen for anything, let alone a known ruptured eardrum, can sure cause you to ponder odd things.
My mind travels across the years considering my self care choices. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten Sour Patch Kids so much when I was a kid, I think to myself as though that's the reason I have an ear infection. Didn't I read that consuming sugar creates inflammation in the body. Damn you candy industry! I silently yell to the room as I shake an imaginary fist.
Glancing around the ENT patient room, I see all the tools that the doctor may or may not need to use and regret my life's health choices even more. The chair resembles a dentist chair and has very similar looking dental tools. Except these GO IN YOUR EARS. You know, the organs very near your brain? They're all very pointy and sharp. One metal spike (that's the way it looks to me anyway) has a yellow rubber hose attached to the other end of it. The hose disappears into some kind of receptacle. If I didn't know that they use this to vacuum stuff from your ears, I'd freak out thinking that's where the brains go.
Great, I mumble to myself, one of these devices is going to be used on ME today. Shaking my fist to the candy lords again, I can feel my breath quickening into panic
I'll just leave. I can just walk out that door and my ear will be fine. I don't need to hear anyway. It's overrated.
Suddenly, the doctor gives a double courtesy rap on the door and walks in.
TRAPPED! My brain screams. I want to scream out loud too but thought that would be dramatic so instead, I put on my bravest smile and say sweetly, “Hello, how are you?!”
The nurse practitioner tells me that she wants to look in my ears to see how the rupture is healing, if at all. Surgery might be an option if it's not so hopefully it is.
I want to ask her if it's too late for me given all the Sour Patch Kids I've eaten in my life but thought asking that question without any background might prompt her to refer me to a good mental health care professional instead. So I squeeze my eyes shut while she uses a flashlight tool to check my ears.
“Good news Angela! The rupture is healing on it's own with the help of the antibiotic,” she declares. “Continue the care and we'll add ear drops to the protocol. We want to see you back in 2 weeks.”
And she didn't even have to use any of those spiky tools! I rejoice to myself.
Suddenly relieved, I wasn't so mad at the candy industry anymore nor was I quite so questioning of the years spent during my childhood gorging the gummy, sugary candies with weirdo faces on them.
After I check out at the scheduler's station, I begin to look forward to stopping for a very unhealthy Starbucks coffee.
I earned this. It'll be fine.
I also plan to repeat this pattern of contemplation about my health choices in 2 weeks.
This time, I'll shake my fist at the Starbucks coffee industry.
