After my physical yesterday, I realized that I might have told some untruths.  I didn’t realize how much I had “fibbed” until after I left feeling all proud of how healthy I am and was questioned a little by my husband.  I basically lied to every question I was asked.  One didn’t seem like that big of a deal but when I added them all up, yikes.  I better buy an apple orchard because I’m doomed, I need more than an apple a day.  I basically walked in bleeding out of my eyes and dragging my left leg but led my doctor to believe I was fit as a fiddle.  What is with these odd sayings?  Who came up with these?

The depression questionnaire in the waiting room started my downward spiral.  I could have answered yes to every question but checked off no.  I’m fine, whatever, no one needs to know I contemplate jumping in front of a Big Wheel daily.  I can handle it.   Then came the question about whether my menstrual cycle is regular.  Pretty much was my answer, and in my eyes six periods a month qualifies as pretty much.  That’s for my GYN to deal with anyway, no need to get two doctors concerned.  “Is your asthma under control?”  Yup, pretty much non-existent.  Good thing I was too lazy to carry my oxygen tank in from the car.

“Stomach issues?”  Nope, all good.  Meanwhile my family compares me to the funny intestine person on the IBS commercials that holds its belly.  I’ve had a sensitive stomach all my life, it’s fine, it’s just me.  No need to talk about it.   “Been to the eye doctor lately?”  Not too long ago, I wear glasses.   I didn’t mention I was only looking in her general direction because she was speaking and I was using my hearing to guide me.  I lost a few pounds, which I was praised for.  If I had taken off my socks she would have seen the weight loss was because four of my toes had fallen off recently.

We ended with her telling me to keep up the good work and I was looking great.  Fit. As. A. Fiddle.