I used to love going to the doctor. Correction: I used to love getting presents after I went to the doctor.
Growing up, my Granny was usually the one who took me to the doctor when I fell ill. "Fell ill" included anything and everything that made her even think that her baby might be getting even a little bit sick. She also dressed me up like I was going to church. She would rather go hungry than have someone think that she let us run around in dirty clothes.
My pediatrician was Dr. Kavuri. Dr. Kavuri was a small-statured Indian doctor with a very strong Indian accent. He smelled like curry. His wife, who was always dressed in traditional Indian women's garb, also worked with him. She was always very, very sweet. She also always had this look of sympathy in her eyes. The "You're such a sweet little girl. I'm sorry my husband is about to come in here with his prehistoric method of pricking your finger and make you cry. If it's any consolation, I'll give you a sticker when you walk back out of our germ infested waiting room" look. Like clockwork, Dr. Kavuri would prick my finger with his razor blade and I'd be on my way in a matter of minutes.
Afterwards, Granny would take me to Walmart and let me pick out a toy. Or to Belk and I'd get an outfit. Whatever I wanted, I was rewarded with for being on my best behavior. This is why I always liked to go to the doctor. Bribery: what a useful tool of manipulation.
This pattern of behavior has continued until present day. When Granny isn't around to buy me something, I go on a shopping trip by myelf and reward myself for being "brave" and not crying when I have my blood drawn and things of the like.
Recently, I had to go into the hospital for an Out-Patient procedure. My reward? A Kitchen Aid like Granny's.
She's ruined me for life. The End.
I enjoy very much how often you refer to your KitchenAid.
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