On the mend…
I was sick the other night, so sick that I thought at one point I was simply going to stop breathing. Not because I wanted to stop breathing, you see, but because I was physically incapable of breathing any more. At that point, I spiked a fever and decided to call the health line that our province has set up for us to use.
So I called and the lady on the phone was absolutely lovely. First she asked me if my lips were turning blue, and after a quick glance in the mirror I assured her that they were not. She asked me questions for a good twenty minutes and then, in a very serious tone, told me that she would like me to be seen by a doctor within the next twenty four hours. Like, she personally would be saddened by my not seeking medical attention; as though the happiness of her soul rested on my desire to get off the couch and see a doctor.
I went to the hospital after that because my doctor’s office is closed this week and there are no walk in clinics in CowTown. Unless you count flagging down the vet when he passes you on the highway and he really, really hates it when people flag him down and ask for mass quantities of veterinary-use-only penicillin.
I think its really neat to go somewhere with a physical ailment rather than one floating about in the depths of your mind. The doctor who saw me didn’t even bother to sit down a safe distance in front of me. He didn’t eye me cautiously before he started questioning me and he didn’t look anywhere but directly AT the crazy person when he got out the checklist.
Further, he didn’t ask me my favorite question: “Do you ever hear or see things that other people may not see or hear?” And I was a little bit sad that I didn’t get asked this question, because usually I try and think of something really creative to say, something that will catch their attention and never allow them to forget me. Something along the lines of “You mean St. Joseph didn’t just ask you to bring us a large double double the next time you come in here?”
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