A prompt from
: Write about the last time you had a doctor’s visit, what it was like for you, and how you felt when you left. What has your relationship with healthcare highlighted about your relationship with your body? The prompt is from this post, which includes the gorgeous poem, “Prep for a Pap Smear.”It’s just for hip pain, I tell myself. But I don’t like the mottled skin over my femur, like the flesh has started to wilt. A man sits across from me, so still, eyes closed praying or meditating or trying to remember also waiting. Another man scrolls to my right, black Converse like my middle daughter. He’s middle-aged like me. Later, we’ll share a tiny elevator trading air and awkward conversation. He’s a flight instructor at a community college. I imagine my teens taking his class one day flying up and over the faded middle distance far away. The imaging comes back so fast. Osteoarthritis is the guess. The internet says It will get worse and worse and there’s nothing you can do. Try losing some weight, you perimenopausal lump. Ha ha ha ha. Just kidding. Sort of. I try to absorb the spill of information and ideas none of it from my doctors, the notes they send back denuded of what to do next. I limp back to my life, hip aching down to my ankle. At least I got the x-ray done.
Ooof. What's a diagnosis without a treatment plan, or at least some human commentary? And why does every doctor want to change the subject the minute osteoarthritis comes up??
My hip aches for you, Margaret Ann. My head and heart are grateful for your own open heart and eye at your appointment. This is a poem that lots of people will feel-with.
I'm bummed for you about that diagnosis.
You wrote this beautifully and with humor.