Waiting on an old Indian man...

Once again, I am waiting. Every week, I have to see my high-risk OB and every week, he is about 3-4h late. Hmph... Don't get me wrong: I love my doctor. He is this old Indian man with a hilarious accent. Picture the Indian shopkeeper from the Simpson's with a lab coat.

He did a wonderful job with my cerclage and is like the superstar of OBs in Hong Kong. That's precisely where the problem lays: everyone wants to see him. The other problem is his trade: delivering babies. Babies have that annoying tendency of not respecting other people's doctor's appointment! They just show up whenever they feel like it, disrupting my entire schedule.
Now that I think about it, I don't recall a single time where he actually was on time for my appointment.

Now here's the thing about my weekly cervix check-ups: they are my only social outing of the week. It's the only time where I get to put makeup on, cute maternity clothes, shoes and to see people. You have no idea what a treat it is for me! I start thinking of what to wear days in advance, daydreaming about accessories and color-coordination. The morning of the appointment, I wake up as excited as a kid on Christmas day. You are probably thinking that I am a complete moron, but try living on your couch all week and you'll see what an outing will do to you.

So today, I have this new maternity top and I managed to squeeze myself and my big belly into a size 36 maternity trousers. This is probably the last time that'll happen, given that I am now happily gaining about 1kg (about 2 pounds, for my US readers) a week. Then I get to wear makeup, which I apply laying down in bed. It took me about a month to master this skill but I no longer look like a hooker or a sick person. And then I got the call..."Dr. G. has a patient in labor, we will call you when he gets into the office". AAARRRRGGGHHHH.

On my couch, all dolled up, super incomfortable in those pants but hey, you gotta suffer for fashion, waiting for an old Indian man...