Funny Strange is Lori Culwell's blog

Did I Stutter?

I’m sure it doesn’t surprised you to know that many of these blog posts start as strange situations or thoughts that I have, and then I call Stephan on the phone, and we laugh and talk about it some more, and then it becomes a whole blog-worthy situation in my mind, and then later I write it up.

So—ok, I guess I should start out this story by saying that three people in my family have had skin cancer and that I am super-pale and very paranoid about how statistically probable it is that I am going to get it eventually, so I spray myself with SPF 80 sunscreen every single day before I go out, and yet sometimes I still notice suspicious- looking spots, and I go straight to the dermatologist (I have at least one in every city) and force them to cut it off.  I am very cut happy, I don’t care what you think about this—I just believe you are better safe than sorry.  If you want to take a “wait and see” attitude toward your own dermatological situations, though, more power to you.

Anyway, I’m getting to the point—I noticed a suspicious looking spot a couple of weeks ago, and because a) it didn’t go away, and b) the afore-mentioned paranoia, and c) a good friend of mine had a similar spot and it turned out to be basal cell carcinoma, I decided to go see a totally new dermatologist in Connecticut, because I was pretty sure my guy in NYC couldn’t get to me in time to assuage my growing hysteria.

So--Monday morning, I drive to Connecticut, the new dermatologist takes one look at me and compliments me on my lack of sun damage, and then says “that spot is fine—it’s nothing, we’ll keep an eye on it.”

Ok, you already know I’m going to make him cut it off anyway because I have no regard for his medical authority.  But also?  I notice he has a slight stutter. 

Now is the time for me to mention that people with speech impediments make me nervous, and it’s probably not because of the reason you think— speech impediments themselves don’t bother me at all.  In fact, I get nervous because once I notice that someone has an issue that might make them different, I immediately in my mind go into this paroxysm of sympathy for them about how hard it must have been for them throughout their lives, and how self-conscious they must have been (or still might be), and how I just want to treat them like everyone else, and how what they really want in their life is for things to just be normal and to blend in and for people not to notice them, and this whole ethos makes me so nervous that I start to get self-conscious that just from trying not to focus on it so much, maybe I will slip up and imitate them or otherwise make them uncomfortable, and this will bring back years of trauma for them and make them think I am just like all those schoolyard bullies that taunted them, when in fact I am the exact opposite of that—I am so accepting and want them to be so comfortable that now I am freaking myself out and making myself uncomfortable.  Yes, I’m sure this all makes perfect sense to you, and that now you can understand a little better what goes on inside my mind.  Yiiiikes!

So, the dermatologist—he stutters.  And now I am hyper aware of this, and he is a conservative dermatologist, whereas I am an aggressive dermatology patient who is not going to leave until this suspicious-looking spot has been removed and is in the lab where it can’t hurt me anymore.  And the more I explain to him about my skin cancer family and the more he argues that it’s a totally benign spot, the more nervous he is getting, and the more he is stuttering, and the more I am exhausting myself trying to keep myself in check and not slip up and say something that sounds like I am trying to make fun of his speech impediment, and you can see how the cycle of crazy perpetuates itself.

Finally he gives in, maybe because he is tired of arguing with me and wants to move on to his next patient.   He cuts off my suspicious spot (yowch!), off-handedly mentions that the scar that this procedure is going to leave behind is probably going to be more noticeable than the original spot (don’t care!  Keep cutting!), and we part ways.   I wonder—is he as nervous and self-conscious as I am?  Does he really have a stutter, or do aggressive patients just make him nervous so he trips over his words?  Am I overthinking this?

I can’t speak for the doctor, but the answer to “Am I overthinking this?” is always, 100% yes.   For the record, I’m sure he was right about the spot being benign, but I still don’t feel guilty.  Better safe than sorry!    Oh, and you know the minute I get that “You Are Cancer Free” postcard in the mail from the lab, I will run right back to this blog and report it so you all know I’m ok.

And with that, please have a nice weekend, and remember to wear sunscreen!

Prius Panic, or “How I Am Now Stuck in Bureaucratic Purgatory and Unable to Go to the Grocery Store”

So, um—the Prius.  The one that I drove cross country?  Now I am afraid to drive it, because it might do this.  I’m not joking, ever since that San Diego guy’s car careened out of control, now every time I get in my car (which, by the way, is the exact same year, make, and model as his), I drive on the right side of the road and look for safe places to crash, in case I feel the “runaway accelerator” kick in.

I’m serious, people.  I am looking for places to crash because I figure crashing while going 40 is preferable to letting it go all the way to 90, right?

The logical conclusion would be to get rid of the car and just get another one, which I’m happy to do. Only I can’t, because of oh, so many good reasons.   Here are a few:

1.        You can’t really sell a Prius right now, and you know how I hate to lose money.  But, ok, even if I declare this a “money is green paper” moment, overlook the fact that I might actually take a huge loss AND sell someone a car that has the potential to careen out of control, there’s always the next factor, which is

2.       I don’t have a New York State driver’s license, so I can’t even go out and buy or lease a car right now.  Nope.  Can’t trade in my car, which by the way I have to re-register in the State of New York, which by the way I can’t do unless I have a New York State driver’s license.

ALSO

3.       Turns out I can’t get a New  York State driver’s license because I don’t have the ORIGINAL COPY OF MY SOCIAL SECURITY CARD.  Are you following this?  I just want to go to the store to get some sparkling water, people, and I’m afraid to do it in my own car, and I can’t get a new car because of a bureaucratic mess that’s piling up on itself like a seven-layer dip at a Superbowl party.  No social security card, no NY State driver’s license, no new car.   In case you’re all like “why don’t you have a copy of your Social Security Card, everyone should have that,” please let me remind you that my mother is deceased, and when I cleaned out the house where I grew up, I was unable to locate some of these important records.    So, put that in your pipe and smoke it.

So, what do I do?

That’s right.  On Friday, I had to get in my “Prius Panic, potential to careen out of control at any moment car and drove to the Social Security Administration in Connecticut, where I applied for a new card, and was told that I should expect to wait TEN TO FOURTEEN DAYS.  After that I can apply for a new driver’s license, and if my car hasn’t careened out of control by then, I might be able to drive it to a dealership to get another car.

So, my question to you is this:  once this bureaucratic morass is figured out, what do I do with the Prius?  Should I sit on it until Toyota solves this problem?  Trade it in and take a huge bath for something that isn’t even my fault? 

By the way, in case you’re curious, I did call Toyota (both the dealership and the 1-800 number where of course I did not get a live person), and was told that the matter was “under investigation” both by Toyota and by NHTSA, and that if I wanted, I could sell it back to them at wholesale, which made me want to punch someone in the face repeatedly, or maybe slam down the phone over and over again, just to hear it make that satisfying “hangup” noise.

At any rate, by the time I get another car, I’m pretty sure they’re going to have issued another recall (at least that’s what the Wall Street Journal is saying), so it will probably get fixed , and this ridiculousness will just be a distant memory.  And, of course I am super grateful that I just drove all the way across the country in a 2008 Prius without incident.  But, it would be really, really nice if Toyota would just buy these cars back at market rate, since they’re the negligent ones, don’t you think?

Also, what kind of car do you think the president of Toyota drives?  I’m guessing it’s not a Prius.