That little thing that hangs down the back of my throat was crimson red and swollen. It looked sort of like a puffer fish—only down my throat. It was so inflamed, I could hardly swallow water. Forget about chewed up food.
It was time to call the doctor. I hate calling my doctor. No kidding. Actually, I never get to speak to the doctor. No, I have to go through the operator, and then talk to one of the receptionists at the nurses station.
It’s never fun to call them. They all know me by name. How can that be? There’s at least 50,000 patients that go to the clinic. How come all the nurses know my name? I hate that. It makes me feel self-conscious. I hate feeling self-conscious. I mean it.
Anyway, when I talked with one of the receptionist at the nurses station she said, “How can I help you?”
Me: “Ahem.” (cleared my throat) I have a terrible sore throat. It’s so sore that the little thing that hangs down in the back of it is really swollen. I can hardly swallow.
Nurse: “Little thing? You have a little thing down your throat?”
Me: “Yes. We all do. You know, that little thing that hangs down at the very back of our throats? I think it’s called a vulva.
Nurse: Busts out laughing.
Me: “What’s so funny?”
Nurse: “Just one moment please.”
She then covers her hand over the phone mouthpiece. I could tell because I heard her muffle to everyone. “LaRae thinks the ulna in her mouth is a vulva.”
I waited on the phone for about five minutes before everyone stopped laughing.
Nurse: “Um, sorry you had to wait.”
Me: “Could you just talk to the dang doctor and tell him I need some antibiotics for my swollen vulva?
Enormous clap of laughter. I think she had me on speaker phone.
Me: “Hey. This isn’t funny. I’m really sick.”
Nurse: (Trying not to laugh) “I know. I’m sorry. (Giggle) I’ll talk to the doctor right away.”
Me: “Thank you. I really appreciate it.
When I went to hang up, I heard more laughter from the clown station.
What’s up with them?