Students, even ones that weren't mine, noticed I was pregnant right away - which I was a little surprised by because I hardly notice it . . . except after I eat . . . or when I try on certain pants...
I've never really like the first day of school. I stopped going to the first days of school in high school because I found them so unbearable boring. Even as a teacher, I'd rather just skip to a week or month down the road when a routine has been settled into. I suppose I'm not the only one, as it is a phrase in Turkish: gec mic olsen - something you say to a person who is sick, or something has happened too - it's well wishing the person for things to get better, a sort of get-well-soon phrase.
After school I went straight to the hospital. There aren't really any clinics or private offices here. Most go to the hospital for even the most general check-up. My regular check-up isn't until next week. I went today because Tolga made me.
A week ago I couldn't sleep with bad stomach cramps that eventually turned into diarrhea. I didn't feel terrible after the first night, but I didn't return to regular and everything Tolga and read about my symptoms warned that if you were pregnant to see your doctor. We called my doctor, and she wasn't worried. Neither was I really as it seemed to be stress induced and I only had to run to the bathroom once a day.
Tolga is leaving again this weekend for work, and his dad was at home throwing up. I think the combination of these two things made him stressed and so last night for dinner he told me I couldn't drink milk and I had to eat soup and rice for dinner.
I did so quite begrudgingly. I really wanted a glass of milk though.
He also made a doctor's appointment for us today. We met at the hospital after school - it was an older man - a professor, Tolga kept saying. (Apparently that is the highest level of a profession . . .) While we were checking into the busy lobby, an older man tottered out - nosing around some, then telling Tolga and I we could have a seat - he'd get to us soon. I found it funny that he singled us out as his patients.
We were ushered back soon afterwards. The doctor was from Artvin, where Tolga's parents were from so Tolga tried to open a warm conversation. The older man seemed too busy with his computer. He quizzed Tolga about my symptoms, asked me the few questions he could manage in English, and did a superficial exam.
He wasn't concerned either, and diagnosed me with lactose intolerance. To which I said,
"But I love milk..."
That finally made him smile. His phone rang and he answered some questions about treating the former Turkish president, then he tottered out with us. The checkout line was backed up - so we sat and waited while a woman processed out paperwork. Soon the old doctor tottered back out and told the woman to take care of us. He smiled, shook our hands once again, and said "gec mic olsen."
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