the one that got away.

I guess I don't talk about this enough: I have turned into a gym rat.

When I wake up I think about my workout, at work I'm thinking about my workout, during my workout I'm obsessing about my workout. After my workout, I'm thinking about the next one. Before bed, I'm packing and getting ready for tomorrow's workout. When I'm bored or have extra time and energy, I think about working out. Even if I've already gone once that day.

OUT OF CONTROL.

I'm motivated by results, so naturally, I'll be stuck on this obsession for a while.


Other notes on the day:

I think I'm in love with my neurologist. Maybe.

I opted not to go to the university due to a previous experience there, and I chose Mercy because of my super awesome treatment for my super emergency tonsillectomy. Plus, (don't tell my boyfriend) I like the idea of a hospital with faith. In all my years of living here, Mercy has been good to me.

One of the best ophthalmologists in town is a doctor at Mercy and she ended up being the one I first came to see. She specializes in glaucoma, so I'm her youngest patient by about 40 years (no joke) but she is hands down ah-may-ZING. She is the one who referred me to Dr Stern. This is where it gets interesting.

The administrative staff there aren't the most accommodating bunch, there was lots of confusion about scheduling my first visit, then they wanted to reschedule on the days we were in Vegas, then we picked a day we all agreed on and the doc was nowhere to be found. On my very first visit, she showed up a bit late, wasn't expecting me, spent 5 minutes with me before she scheduled an MRI for two weeks later.

NOT COOL, BRO.

After much teeth pulling, we got the MRI for that same afternoon and set up the lumbar puncture for two days later. Yeah... let's talk about that lumbar puncture.

I was in agony for almost an hour, she went through two kits playing pin the tail on my spinal cord before my blood pressure spiked and they took a break. She left to get another kit and when she came back I was crying uncontrollably, which seemed to make her very uncomfortable. And then she went MIA. My nurse asked where my physician went; of course we had no idea. There was a hustle, then a group of three doctors in green scrubs came to save me. I wish I remembered their names because they were awesome.

My most recent appointment I was nervous, mostly due to my obvious issues with authority. Not to mention, she's skinny and pretty and a fucking neurologist for christ's sake. I want to impress her... but sadly, I'm just me. But this time she was really nice! We chatted and for a brief second I thought to myself, I can actually see this working in the long-run. The sad truth of IIH is that I need to get intimately familiar with my neuro, even if it's her.

She was so responsive and supportive that for the first time I felt REALLY GOOD about my condition. And then I got the voicemails of doom. Truth be told, I've probably listened to them 50 times collectively. What really gets me is how human she is. She is an attractive lady, but without the visuals it's a different story.

I can do awkward and gawky.

I got so caught up in the entire package, a young and pretty neurologist, and I was seeing green that I never stopped to realize what kind of person it takes to specialize in this field: nerds. So my young, pretty, genius neurologist, she's just a geek.

And that is definitely something I can learn to love.