Why I love going to the hospital
For months, months I tell you, I have been trying to lose nine pounds.
When I got married almost a year ago, I was a svelte 136 pounds - the smallest I've been since I was in Grade 8, kid you not.
But, over the past year, as I became less stay-at-home-exercising-mommy and more corporate-newspaper-career-woman, I packed on nine pounds; not 10, which seems like a lot, but nine.
My pants still fit, but I have two great dresses that no longer go over the boot-ay since my derriere has changed. It used to be tight like a celebrity's tucked face. Now it's Jello.
But tonight, I had an appointment at the pulmonary function lab at Kingston General Hospital, to figure out what was going on with my asthma and I had to get my weight and my height done.
A young med student (or young respiratory therapist?) got me on the scale and had me turn around. I thought he was being kind so I didn't have to stare at the numbers, but he said it's easier for the scale to get my height right if I'm not facing it. (It had one of those bars that sticks out over your heard to get your height).
After he was done with me, I went and saw another respiratory therapist.
She looked at my chart and said: "Sarah Crosbie, right?"
"Yes," I replied.
"You're 5'5?"
"Yes," I replied.
"139 pounds?"
Huh?
"139 pounds?"
Um, sure. I've apparently lost six pounds in 24 hours, but if the doc tells you you weigh 139, who's gonna argue?
Love you, KGH.
There might be more(or not)
When I got married almost a year ago, I was a svelte 136 pounds - the smallest I've been since I was in Grade 8, kid you not.
But, over the past year, as I became less stay-at-home-exercising-mommy and more corporate-newspaper-career-woman, I packed on nine pounds; not 10, which seems like a lot, but nine.
My pants still fit, but I have two great dresses that no longer go over the boot-ay since my derriere has changed. It used to be tight like a celebrity's tucked face. Now it's Jello.
But tonight, I had an appointment at the pulmonary function lab at Kingston General Hospital, to figure out what was going on with my asthma and I had to get my weight and my height done.
A young med student (or young respiratory therapist?) got me on the scale and had me turn around. I thought he was being kind so I didn't have to stare at the numbers, but he said it's easier for the scale to get my height right if I'm not facing it. (It had one of those bars that sticks out over your heard to get your height).
After he was done with me, I went and saw another respiratory therapist.
She looked at my chart and said: "Sarah Crosbie, right?"
"Yes," I replied.
"You're 5'5?"
"Yes," I replied.
"139 pounds?"
Huh?
"139 pounds?"
Um, sure. I've apparently lost six pounds in 24 hours, but if the doc tells you you weigh 139, who's gonna argue?
Love you, KGH.
Labels: asthma, hospital, KGH, weight
There might be more(or not)
