My Mom Is a Doctor

Any time I have any issue with my body whatsoever, I ask my mom. This includes injuries, skin discolorations, unusual bumps, ingrown hairs, and a bunch of other stuff I can’t tell you about because they’re my secrets (don’t worry, no sex diseases or anything like that). She probably knows way more about my body than anyone would ever want to, but that’s her own fault for being a doctor. I’ve always thought that this was fantastic. When I was little I never went to the doctor when I was sick, and my mom can prescribe me almost anything I need – except for the exciting stuff, like sleeping pills and hardcore pain killers, but I don’t usually want those things. She carries on her at all times little unmarked bottles full of a large assortment of pills, which she can somehow tell apart. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that not all adults do this. This realization mostly arose when I discovered that I myself am an adult (kind of), and don’t carry around bottles like this. Most of the time, anyway. I should though, it’s always so convenient when she’s around and can instantly fix almost any problem I have.

For the most part, having a doctor for a mom is awesome. The downside lies in the high expectations I’ve developed of her, assuming she should be able to take care of every one of my medical needs, and the disappointment that follows when she cannot. Like when she refuses to diagnose issues I’m having because she claims “she’s not an expert in that area of medicine.” I always call shenanigans on that one – aren’t doctors supposed to know everything? One time a few years ago I had this weird thing on my tongue and she told me to go to an ENT doctor. Like I have time for that. Then there are times when she knows the issue, but still wants somebody else to go take care of it. Like in the fall when I had this weird thing in my armpit, it was nice that she was able to undo my self-diagnosis of cancer, but then she told me to go to the dermatologist and have them take care of it, because there are certain things that she “would never want to do to her own daughter.”

Finally, it’s especially frustrating when I have a problem that I’m sure she could help me with, but she isn’t even here. Instead she’s running around Europe and Africa, and not tending to my medical needs. The knee pain I had at the Mt. Hood Scramble last week hasn’t gotten better, and at my soccer game the other night it got so bad that I could barely walk right for a couple minutes. One of my least favorite things in the world is when my body isn’t working right, and it’s even worse when I can’t figure out why or fix it immediately. I think it has something to do with the tendons, but it’s hard to say, I’m no doctor. If I didn’t have my mom I would probably find somebody else to look at it, and maybe even pay them money. But she’s coming home next week so I guess I’ll wait until then.

Small amount of good news though – I went to a spin class today, and even though it was really hard, there was no knee pain. So I can at least do non-weight bearing things on it for now. My knee was also unaffected last night when I played Wii Fit at my friend Lauren’s house. But I think my fitness was also unaffected by playing Wii Fit, so I’m not sure that’s a great alternative to running.