Pokes and prods

Or: in which the Smitten Immigrant goeth and is doctored at for visa purposes.

I found myself in this quaint room, with yellow vinyl flooring and little flyers about yellow fever and the hepatitis ABC. I was sat between pair of men (one with the striped cane used by legally blind people) speaking a language full of tongue clicks and a mother and a child, speaking (what I think was) Italian. I waited and tried not to look too neurotic.

The younger doctor whisked me away to a tiny room in which the assistent was making loud phone calls. He sat me down in a cramped corner and took some of my  blood. He then sent me back to my chair in the yellow-floored room.

The assistent came in and made me fill out paperwork, while the other waiting folks were having their blood taken or were otherwise out of the waiting room.  I handed her the little booklet that my parents have kept since birth to write in every shot I ever received. She left, I waited.

The younger doctor came in, sent another patient out of the waiting room and interviewed me. Filled out more paperwork and I got back my booklet. He left, I waited.

The older doctor came and took me into the actual examination room for ‘The Physical’.  The following results are now known:

– My blood pressure is fine.

– Not smoking is The Best Thing I Can Do For Myself.

– I am half an inch taller than I thought I was. Ha! (Actually, he measured me as almost a full inch taller, but we took half off because I wore sneakers).

– I weigh about ten pounds less than I thought I did*. Which is like free good feelings, and who doesn’t like those?  (I totally had cookies to celebrate, don’t laugh)

– I’m good for another decade of exposure to diphtheria,  tetanus and polio. Always good, I suppose (although I would like to be whiny, because my upper arm is sore from the shot and I couldn’t sleep on my side because of it). Bring on the germs!

– I just do not seem to be the type of person to ‘really’ be unemployed (or so the doctor said when he questioned me fatherly about what I’d studied and what my last job was and what I was working on, since I said I didn’t get paid for anything just now).

Then, I was sent on my way to find the x-ray clinic, where there was more waiting (this time with chatty people who I could understand). Once taken in, I was instructed  to strip my top half and press my bare tits against one end of the x-ray apparatus. I was told to strike a strange pose and take a deep breath.

.. mmkay

Change of pose. Another breath.

Done. Please get dressed before you leave, Smitten Immigrant. People will look at you funny. It’s also chilly out.

Oh, and if I don’t get a call in a week I do not have syphilis or tuberculosis, meaning that no health issue will prevent me from getting a visa.


* I do not own a scale for purposes of weight-neurosis prevention and body acceptance encouragement, meaning that I only step on one very rarely.


6 Responses to “Pokes and prods”

  1. 1 Amanda June 12, 2013 at 10:19 am

    Oh we had a fight about whether or not we were going to own a scale, like you I just prefer NOt to ever get weighed, for neurosis prevention too. But the husband absolutely wants one in the house (mostly so that we can weigh our luggage before heading to the airport, instead of going with the “we’ll be fine, don’t you worry” philosophy of mine).
    Now… the Dr. ordered close monitoring of my weight and I have to step in the scale every night ( I think to make sure I don’t start swelling, I am not really sure). I am also 1-2 kg less than I thought, but it fluctuates (also around 1 kg) from one day to the next.
    I hope all of your test results come back well. And hope your arm feels better.

    • 2 thesmittenimmigrant June 22, 2013 at 8:31 pm

      You have to weigh yourself every night? That’s really intense. Are they looking for something in particular, or is it a way to track your cycle?

      Since I’ve not been called, the results are all good and there is no medical reason for me to not be allowed to immigrate. Phew 🙂

      • 3 Amanda June 23, 2013 at 10:03 am

        The weighing is a means to check that I don’t get excessive swelling / fluid accumulation after the follicle aspiration.. it is a minimal risk…

        I am glad to hear your results are all well, and tick off the list.

  2. 4 Tania Elizabeth June 12, 2013 at 1:16 pm

    I’m glad you were able to get this out of the way! Sounds like such an ordeal! But YAY for good health so far!

    There are two scales at my house and I refuse to get on them… BODY ACCEPTANCE ALL THE WAY! =)

    • 5 thesmittenimmigrant June 22, 2013 at 8:37 pm

      Well, the medical is a bit of a hassle, but compared to the scrounging for paperwork, the endless printing and copying and the assembling of massive files (we’re at about seven inches of paperwork, I think), it’s only a little blip. Still, I’m glad it’s over 🙂

      Isn’t it interesting that both you, me and Amanda would prefer not to weigh ourselves? It makes me wonder if there’s anyone in the world who feels untouched by the pressures about weight..

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