"Doctor, Doctor, Give Me The News....|

"...You got a bad case of parts unused..."

Or at least that's what I heard my local, Australian doctor thinking to herself today during my appointment. That is, after she pointedly mentioned it had been almost a YEAR since my last appointment. I mumbled something about travel and the new project, and then cut straight to the chase..I'm about to lose my damned MIND, and am ready to roll the dice.

Bring on the Hormone Replacement Therapy, dammit! We all gotta die from something, but if I can get a couple of sane, hot-flash free years under my belt before my boobs fall off and my ovaries calcify, it'll be worth the gamble. We had actually talked about this during one of my last visits, and I remember her saying how much her own sister had benefited from HRT. It had literally changed her life, from misery and rage to energy and optimism. So though a DC endocrinologist had discouraged me from going that route, the Nairobi doc was trying to convince me that relief from severe symptoms could outweigh the risk.

But before she'd sign off on HRT, she wanted to monitor my blood pressure and cholesterol, and insisted I get another mammogram before starting the regimen. And then, she paused and decided to do some more thorough probing.

"So, how long have you lived in Nairobi?" "About two years and 3 months." "Did you move here just for this job?" "Yes." "Did you have any family here?" "No, I'm American." "Are you married?" "No, single, never-married." "Do you have a partner or companion?" "No."

(Doctor pauses to peer at patient over the top of her glasses.) "Do you live alone?" "Yes." "What about your social networks? Do you have friends and acquaintances you spend time with regularly?" "Well...er... no, I mean,... (defensively) ...I have people over for dinner, and quite a few expat acquaintances, but the friend I was closest to here just left for the UK."

The momentary silence was deafening. I didn't need a teleprompter to read what was on her mind. "This chick just needs to get some regularly, and all her physical and emotional problems would probably vanish."

Like I said, I'm still embarrassed just thinking about that little exchange. Oh, she's still willing to start me on the HRT after my mammogram results are in, but I could see her biting her lip to keep from saying,

"You're virtually a freakin' workaholic hermit, for Chrissakes! Get a life, not a prescription!!"