By Fred Prout
Random musings on the vagaries of life.
I understand that as you mature (a condition I resist with all my being) stuff happens to your body. In the past, I have recounted a few previous run ins with the medical community. It seems that when I was a child, maybe 3 or 4 , I started to go outside. In the sunshine. I can see by your nodding that you can tell where this is going.
Yeah, I just had my (seems like hourly) visit to the dermatologist. I think the office people are wonderful. I compliment them because, although I may be crazy, I’m not stupid. As a courtesy, as soon as they hear my car pull up, the nurses immediately ready the cans of liquid nitrogen, and start sharpening the scalpels. The clerks check my insurance and surreptitiously update my credit score. I really appreciate all this as it cuts down my waiting time. I can usually get in and out in just under four hours. Unless they find something.
They found something! Seems like the poor decisions of my youth continue to haunt me. “We are going to take a tiny sample from your left ear. It won’t hurt a bit.” Except for the two foot needle that numbs it. Now you know that the doctor has to have a nurse present when they slice and dice. Mainly so they can mumble things that you can’t hear or understand. Scares the hell out of me. When the painless needle goes in for the third time, I imagine hearing “Starry starry night” playing in the background. For you younguns, that’s a song about Vincent Van Gogh. For you… never mind. I’ve been around the block a few times so I understand that this is just to stoke enough fear that you are relieved to know that some ear remains.
Then the magic words, “we’ll check this out. Come back in thirty days for the results.” I’m not sure that lousy insurance and a low credit score will avoid that second visit. That might just be a nasty rumor. The doctor leaves and the nurse starts mopping up the bodily fluids, puts on a bandage and hands you the consolation prize. A two hundred dollar gift bag of bandaids, preprinted instructions and a package of goop to use at home. When you get home you find that the goop says it’s good for, get this, diaper rash.
I am extremely fortunate to have two wonderful nurses in my life to help with the changing of the bandages and, inspection of said partial ear. One relationship is purely professional. The other jump starts my heart whenever I see her. Naturally, I tell each one that they do the best bandage job. I may have mentioned that I may be crazy but I’m not stupid. When Willie, the jump starter, looked at the tube of goop, she remarked that something for diaper rash used on my head was either symbolic or ironic. I’m not sure which because I sometimes can’t look and listen at the same time. I have no idea what she meant,but I’m sure she’s right. Stupid or crazy, you get it.
Now Dana, the professional nurse here at the Home For Senior Delinquents does a fantastic job trying to help keep the inmates healthy. One of the things she does is conducts seminars. A few weeks ago she posted a sign touting a seminar on “Mindful Movement.” Honestly, I kid you not. Some misguided soul didn’t realize that it meant think before you move so you don’t fall. He (ahem ahem) decided to put his three cents worth in and informed this highly competent health care professional that “Mindful Movement” isn’t necessary. Just sit and it will usually happen all by itself. Thinking is unnecessary. Also broccoli works.
I happened to mention this to my beautiful dining companion. Without hesitation, she replied, “Broccoli gets a BUM rap.”
Ubbada ubbada ubbada, That’s all, folks.