The Dreaded Trip to the Doctor's Office

I love my doctor.

Today I went in for my dreaded yearly physical. She asked if there was anything new or anything that I wanted to talk about. I brought up my mother's Alzheimer's diagnosis and my foot problems. She asked me questions that seemed relevant. A few that I fumbled on were remembering the date, the season and if I ever have problems with remembering what I had for supper the night before. I also fumbled on the asking questions over and over. I have been catching myself doing that, but thankfully, still catching myself. I have difficulty with words and have been spelling things the way they sound but catch that as well. I forget the names of common items and it drives me crazy. She thinks my lack of sleep could be affecting my memory. I hope that is it. I haven't had a good night's sleep in forever. She wants me to try Ambien, but I am reluctant due to the addictive nature of sleeping pills. They were out of samples anyway...

Speaking with my siblings, I realize that it must be the nature of Betty's offspring, if not all the family members of the afflicted, to become newly alarmed at forgetfulness. That makes me feel better to know that I am not alone in this, yet I still feel selfish asking the doctor about it. I feel guilty. Mom couldn't get a jump on hers. They can do genetic testing. I am waiting to hear whom to call regarding this set up. I don't know about scans, if it would be too early to reveal anything about it. If I can get a jump on the monster, I want to. I would rather die quickly and with dignity and without losing my mind first.

I hate that damned disease. I hate that my mom has it. I don't want anyone else to have it. I feel for my father who has to live with his wife so physically healthy and drifting away little by little in the most painful ways.

Anyway, I also found out that I have Morton's neuroma. It is a thickening of the nerve tissue between the toes. I have severe pain from wearing shoes - any kind of shoe. Probably all the waitressing and other standing jobs affected my feet. Until the time and money birds poop on my doorstep, I will deal.

After the dr. office, I visited the optometrist. My eyelids feel like there is something on the inside of the upper lids. Not so. My eyes are rough and infected where my eyelids touch. They really want to close, though homework stress tries to keep them open. I got eyedrops. Whee! Oh, and one of my prescriptions is $700 dollars. I don't know if I will fill it again.