Mother, Mother, I am sick!It was Mum's favorite whenever the absentisitis bug - the compulsion to play hooky for the day when I was finally of school age - hit me. It was fun and a gentle way to remind me that I'm not sick, that I have no excuse to be away from class for the day.
Call the Doctor very quick!
Doctor, Doctor, will I die?
No, my darling, do not cry!
The rhyme ran through my head while I was waiting in the doctor's lounge at high noon with hubby dearest. He was in to ask why he was being lightheaded and why he was having sudden bouts of exhaustion. I said he was just a hypochondriac, but he said something was really wrong.
Argh!
Then I noticed something amazing while we were waiting for our turn.
I looked around me and everyone - save me - had their legs crossed, that universal indication that nobody there was inclined to make small talk.
Looks like everyone's lost in their own world, unwilling to open up to the people near them -- like my husband, worrying about why they're in the doctor's office perhaps.
I hate anything medical -- hospitals, doctors, waiting rooms, scrub suits...
It's something instinctive in us humans, I think. They remind us of our mortality. They certainly remind me of the dreaded prick of the hypodermic needle.
Doctor's offices are lonely places, don't you think?
. . . . . . . . . .
On a different note...Before we went out, I donned my favorite jeans and I felt a little give. Woohoo! Did that mean I've lost some millimeters round my hips and waist. (Over-optimistic, I know. Heh.)
Then I noticed something and I just had to praise God. I've had this pair of blues for more than a decade now and they've always fit me. A li'l snug some days but there was never a time I wasn't able to wear them. Hallelujah for small mercies!
So, maybe, getting back to 28 inches 'round my waist isn't a lost cause after all? Hope springs eternal!
No comments :
Post a Comment