let's see how much complaining I can do today

My work place may be poisoning me.
That's why they send us for a physical every year to the doctor of their choice.  Well, it's supposed to be every year.  I had my second one today, and my first was after I had been here for 3 years - and not before I started, but they called it the "baseline" anyway, but I digress.  The man is cheap, and therefore I have had 2 physicals.

Working in a lab means that you may come into contact with harmful substances, so they check us out every once in a while, you know, so if we ever file a lawsuit, they have paperwork saying we were ok.  But the thing is, I work with gases.  Carcinogenic gases.  So if one day I end up with cancer, was testing my hearing, heart, and reflexes really relevant to my hazardous work environment?
At the end of the appointment, the doctor came in and asked if I had any concerns, and I told him no.  Because last time when I expressed my concerns - about how instead of being in a controlled area like it was supposed to, they moved part of my work area down to an old closet - the part where all these gases are set loose - and when I pointed out that I would really not rather be breathing them, they cracked a single ceiling panel as a solution?  Because anything else would cost money and/or effort.  Anyway, last time I said I was concerned about this, and the doctor said I should ask for a gas mask.  (I was not given a gas mask).  So I didn't see any point in bringing this up again.
The obvious answer to this would be to change jobs, but instead of talking about how stupid I am, let's talk about things I don't like about doctor's offices.

1.  Those big, clanky scales that are out in the middle of the hall where everybody can see them.  Do I always get weighed just after a child?  Why do they have to keep the thing on 80 pounds, so that it clunks way over as soon as I step on?  You know that sound that says, "whoa - we're going to need some major adjusting here".  Couldn't they just as easily keep it on 100 and assume that most people aren't going to weigh under that?  Or am I the only one this happens to?  Am I the heaviest person in the world?

2.  When you tell me to put on the robe so that it opens from the back, I'm going to put it on so that it opens from the back.  If you know you are about to have to stick 50 different things to my chest for a heart ekg, and the whole thing is going to have to be yanked off anyway, why not just have it open from the front in the first place?  At least there is an illusion that some part of it is still there.

3.  Needles.  You would think after getting shots twice a week as a kid that they wouldn't bother me, and when they actually take the blood, I'm fine.  But when they bring out the needle - I shiver.  And I cringe even more having to hear other people talk about shots.  (I just got some stories from a coworker.)  But just once I'd like to have someone give me a shot without the accompanying comment, "You have big veins!"   I don't know why this bothers me.  Maybe it's because the first person that ever said it was someone I didn't like it very much, and maybe my brain automatically registers negatively when hearing any part of my body described as "big" by a stranger.

4.  This one was my fault... no reading material the only time I needed it.  The only time I had to wait for a long time was the final doctor's stop in.  The other times I was interrupted before I could finish reading the delightful articles on pumpkin carving and barn restoring.  Just when I think I'm done, and I'm hanging out in the gown that opens in the back, the technician says, "now just finish undressing and the doctor will be in in a moment."  huh?  Undress more?  And then I was sitting there for the next 30 minutes, wondering what my workplace would need to know that necessitated more undressing.  And I didn't have any reading material to distract me, because the magazines were across the room, and I was petrified that if I made a run for it, the door would open at that instant.

5. Has anyone else ever gone to the doctor thinking they were fine, and left with a vague paranoia that they are somewhat diseased?  All of my heart/breathing/x-rays/hearing/vision were fine, but since that final doctor's visit I started wondering if something is wrong with me.  All he did was listen to my heart (some more) and then mash around my abdomen some.  And you know what?  That hurt.  Like, pretty bad.  Not on one side, just on the other.  And it has been hurting ever since (mm, about 4 hours now).  I told my mom this, and she said, "well did you tell him that it hurt?"  no.  "Jennifer, you are supposed to tell him if it hurts."  But he didn't ask if it hurt!  That was my response.  Besides, I didn't know it was going to keep hurting.  Is this normal people?  It doesn't help that this is the exact spot that they've taken some more looks at twice before, never with any conclusive answers.

An upside to my visit (to slightly counterbalance all my whining): The technician that walked me through the whole thing was a klutz.  From ramming the ekg machine into the doorway, causing pieces to break off and bounce around the floor, to dropping my x-rays all over the place, she was interesting.

Another highlight of my last 24 hours:  I played with my toddler niece yesterday, and for the first time, she preferred me to everyone else around.  She turned on her parents, and my mother (the grandmother that she knows spoils her rotten), and only wanted me.  (I believe this has something to do with the fact that I also have the mind & disposition of a child.  Your mother says you can't play with that?  I say you can!  Sneak around on the ground, jumping out from behind chairs and doorways over and over and over again?  Sounds great!)  At the end of the visit she was tired, wouldn't eat, and wanted me to hold her.  When I went into the bathroom cried the banged on the door the whole time.  My sister wanted me to leave so that she would eat, but it didn't work - she hung on to my neck when I told her bye, and started crying when I left and apparently kept it up for a long time afterwards.  So I have that going for me - I am highly desirable and in demand in the world of 1-year-olds.  I just hope I don't die of slightly sensitive abdomen disease... who would show her how to open all of mommy's make-up?