Visiting the Clinic; Mailing to Iraq

Blah! Grumble! Double blah! Yuck!

I'm not a happy camper.

I was whining about a tummy problem Thursday eve. Well, it only got worse. Today at noon, I headed off to the clinic.

It has been about eight months since I've visited this clinic. On the weekend, it's "first come, first serve." (Although they do take appointments during the week.)

Of course, the place was crowded. But there were a few vacant seats across from an obviously injured high school soccer player seated across from his mother. Three fingers on his right hand were bandaged, and he looked like he was in pain. He had propped his feet on the seat next to mine, so I could not help but notice his legs. They were literally the color of old gold. And I noticed how smooth they were.

In a few minutes, a man and a woman showed up with some Subway sandwiches for the player and his mom. The man reaches down and runs his hand along the boy's leg. Which immediately lead to a conversation about why the boy had shaved his legs. Somewhere in the midst of this, I made a chortling sound that the mother overheard. She glanced at me and said, "Even he thinks it funny!"

At this point, I was looking for the proverbal trap door. But the best I could do was to squeak out, "I didn't mean to laugh." My brain was going, "Jesus, lady! Thanks for dragging me into this. Really great job of embarassing both the kid and me. Maybe you can get at job at the UN."

It was almost two hours before I was called back. The nurse took my temp, and it was over a hundred. Which told me I was a lot sicker than I thought. When the doctor came in, I went through my spiel about symptoms and how I thought the problem was bacterial. He requested some blood work, which turned out to show it was virual. He said he would go ahead and give me a prescription for Cipro in case there was also a bacterial origin. He also handed over a prescription for some anti-nausea pills.

It was after 4 by the time I pulled into my drive. As usual, the outside kitties were scampering around the drive. It is impossible to see them. Several times, I've stopped, gone inside, glopped some food into bowls and placed it on the steps. That way I know that everybody will be out of the way. Then I can go back and pull the car up.

In mid-afternoon, I thought I'd make a trek to WalMart. Not that I really felt like it, but I knew it was a necessity. I also decided to mail off the CD. When I peeked back at the order, I realized it was from an American soldier in Iraq. At the post office, I asked about the best way to send the order. The clerk explained that any option would only reflect the speed at which the item arrived at the APO box. Once there, it was up to the military post. So it could take weeks, and there was no way to know for certain.

One of the thoughts that crossed my mind was, "I hope he's still there in several weeks." And of that, there is no way to know for certain either.

PAX!