The report thing was my own fault. He wanted me to come back
to the office in three months for a follow up but I pulled the Old People Card
and said I wouldn’t do that in the winter months for anything less than a heart
attack. “Spring will have to do,” I said, thinking I had out-smarted a guy who
soaking wet couldn’t weigh more than a bale of hay. I didn’t count on him standing
his ground and pulling the accountability pledge out of his bag of tricks to
use on stubborn patients who won’t do follow up appointments if it’s snowing. He
even had his nurse register me for an interactive website where I can view my
medical test results, send Mr. Doctor my monthly reports, and ask his nurse
questions like, “If I just broke my big toe will I need a cast?” When I send in
my first tubby report I’m going to sign it, “from fatty, fatty two by four.” Damn
it, it’s going to be a long winter without my comfort foods to keep me warm!
During the “bad girl” discussion I confessed that I’m an
emotional eater and the doctor asked, “Is there something special going on in
your life that is causing you stress?” If looks could kill, he’d be dead. I had
a hard time not calling him an idiot for not remembering that---DUH!---my
husband died nine months ago! But deep down inside I wondered if 10 years from
now I won’t still be using the same excuse if I don’t get my bad girl eating
binges under control. So I put my strong widow lady face in place and as sweet
as marshmallows in cocoa I explained what I’ve been doing since Don died.
Near the end of the visit the doctor left the room to get me
a flu shot injection and he came back with a nurse in tow I hadn’t seen since
before Don passed away. She’d just heard the news and was upset that she didn’t
know before. He was her favorite patient, she said and “I just loved Don to
death.” Oh okay. It’s a common expression and at first it went right over my
head but when it hit me I had to concentrate on stopping the full blown pucker
up and cry that was forming in my head. Meanwhile, the nurse realized what she
said about loving Don to death and like a slow motion video you could see a
pucker up and cry washing over her face. The next thing you know we were both
crying and Mr. Skinny Ass Doctor was standing in between us with one arm
awkwardly around each of us. And for this surreal hug fest I wondered how much
extra Medicare would get billed.
On the way home I had the Prime Country station playing on
the radio and Dan Seals was singing One
Friend:
Sometimes the world was on our side;
Sometimes it wasn't fair.
Sometimes it gave a helping hand;
Sometimes we didn't care.
'Cause when we were together,
It made the dream come true.
If I had only one friend left,
I'd want it to be you.
Someone who understands me,
And knows me inside out….
Sometimes it wasn't fair.
Sometimes it gave a helping hand;
Sometimes we didn't care.
'Cause when we were together,
It made the dream come true.
If I had only one friend left,
I'd want it to be you.
Someone who understands me,
And knows me inside out….
Well, isn’t that just like a country singer, I thought,
playing my emotions like a violin and making me wish I could write like that.
Then I pulled over to the side of the road and cried the color right out of my irises.
Don was that one friend in my life who knew me inside out and now his spirit is
off doing what ever spirits do in the Great Unknown and I’m stuck writing fatty
two by four letters in my head. I’d call him an ass-breath for dying and
leaving me alone but I’m trying to quit swearing. And Dan Seals? Well let’s
just say I’m still mad at him for making me late for dinner. ©
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