Ancient History

This post has been sitting in my drafts for over a month. Oops. Apologies to my 2 1/2 followers.

I've been living in this area for 2 years, and until today hadn't actually looked for a new general practitioner. I finally got the kick in the pants I needed when I contracted strep throat after attending Archon over the weekend.

I was lucky; the first place I called had a doctor who was accepting new patients and had an opening today. I liked her, but I realized as I was talking to her that she was probably younger than I was. It was a little jarring--I know I'm 30, but this is a thing that can actually happen?

I really don't mind having a young doctor--in fact, I prefer it. I like knowing that medical school is fresh in her memory, and she hasn't had long enough to get too set in her ways. My old doctor in California was about the same age...of course, she was still older than I was at the time I was seeing her. Something about that transition of doctors from elders to peers makes me do a second take.

I guess it wasn't helping matters any that the office was entirely populated by girls who were even younger--fresh-faced buxom young lasses with "student" badges from the local health care trade school. I doubt any of them was older than 23.

I stopped at the appointment desk on the way out because I'm long overdue for a physical. When the girl there pulled up my information, she blinked at me. "You're 30?" she asked, incredulous. "You don't look 30."

I wasn't sure what to think. On the one hand, I'm happy that I apparently still look young. On the other hand, I'm old enough that a 22-year-old can be shocked at how old I am. (Oh my god, 30? That's, like, ancient! Were people still alive back then?)

I never thought I'd be one of those people who stressed out about their age. But then again, I never thought I'd be this old, either.

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