bland sameness letdown

I spent a few hours today at the Life Clinic on Center Street.

I know I’m a tough patient — difficult to please, sassy, overconfident, and all that. Really, I do. I’ve determined an awful lot of my experience is generated by preconceptions before I ever begin the testing. Which isn’t really fair, I know that. But, at least today, I’m not sure I was very wrong. Really it was just the best place I could get into without being put on a three-month waiting list.

My actual experience wasn’t any better than my preconceived ideas: right off the bat, all she wanted to talk about was drinking enough water and how the body needs iodine. Duh.

I don’t know. Trying to get pregnant is a lonely thing — at least it is for me. Going to clinics to listen to strangers that talk to me in soft tones doesn’t really make things better. I need them to have the disposition of a head surgeon at Johns Hopkins instead of a doting elderly grandmother.

I’m not saying their supplements won’t work — really, it’s the meridian scan that does all the work anyway, and any trained monkey could operate that thing (albeit a very, very well-trained monkey.) I’m just saying I didn’t leave with my confidence bolstered.

And really, that’s what I needed the very most.