Copenhagen‘s PhD Postal Carrier worked late today and through some minor miracle, I actually managed to leave my office when I was supposed to for the first time all week. This put us both at the Penthouse Nordic at the exact same time, which hardly ever happens.
So we’re talking to each other as we walk in the door, and among the pieces of mail on the entryway floor is a computer-generated summons to a medical appointment. Now because of the regular monitoring I’ve been undergoing since late 2007 (when I lost my right eye to cancer), there’s a 95% chance that any time we get mail from a doctor, it’s going to be for me. And since I already have a CT Scan scheduled for next month, the “invitation” to the follow-up appointment with the oncologist could arrive any day now.
I didn’t even look before opening it and was really surprised when it turned out to be a summons for a pap smear. This particular exam has always been kind of a joke around our house due to me no longer having the part of the anatomy that it’s designed to check. But the Swedish healthcare system schedules pap smears automatically for all women once they reach a certain age and it took me a couple of years to convince the local authorities they could take me off that particular list.
“Why did they send me this? I haven’t gotten one of these in years.”
“It’s not for you. It’s for me,” said Dr. Darling, reading the over my shoulder.
“But it’s got both of our names on it.”
“Honey, that’s because I got married.”
“Oops. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
“I can’t believe you opened my mail.”