When I add up the trips I’ve made to the doctor this year, I
start feeling my age. Things are wearing out. I track miles for IRS records, in
case our expenses are big enough to deduct. So far this year, the little Prius
has logged 296 miles going to the doctor and the dentist for various patchwork.
The latest trip was for a consultation on a cyst that has
settled onto the joint of the third finger of my left hand. I met with the
X-ray technician, who was a polite young man. “Ma’am, can you take off your
rings?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied, while tugging and pulling and coaxing and
sliding and yanking on my ring. Nothing happened.
"That’s OK. Take off your watch, though.”
“Nah, I’m getting them . . . Aha!” I shrieked as they popped
off my ring finger—my fifty-year-old wedding band and the newer ring with my
grandmother’s diamond made for me after I shipped off the Glerum family ring to
our eldest son for his fiancée.
“Now lay your left hand flat . . . with your finger
extended. Uh . . . on second thought, can you curl up your hand into a fist,
and then just relax your middle finger? Uh . . . what I mean is, can you extend
your middle finger while you keep the other fingers down? Yeah, that’s it. Hold
that pose!”
It isn’t everyone who's invited into an exam room, then
instructed to make a gesture she’s been tempted to make at a lot of recent
medical appointments.
3 comments:
Ditto!
The body weakens but the capacity to appreciate the humorous side of life has got to get stronger. "Adapt or die" is a useful maxim, but "Laugh or die" is at least as pertinent.
There's nothing like a laugh out loud at the unexpected quip. Thank you, Sallie.
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