Freaking Out Nurses: Doctor’s Office Scales Lie
I visited my gynocologist this week for my now bi-annual visit on account of some three rogue papsmear results in a row. I instructed my doctor that she is in charge of the ovaries. No lady ovary cancer, please. She assured me she had my ovaries’ back and not to worry. Interacting with the doctor’s nurse was like communicating with Radar O’Reilly from M*A*S*H. The nurse, who was very sweet and soft-spoken, and green, was surprised when I elected to step on the scale with my thick silver boucle coat (It looks kind of like a pimp coat Prince might wear but I’ve gotten compliments every time I wear it.) and hefty boots. “If I weigh with all this stuff on I know the scale will not speak the truth,” I rationalized. I sort of thought it was brilliant strategy.