Our family is ailing somewhat at this point. I’m recovering from a very nasty bout of flu, the Mister has a sprained ankle, and Hawkeye has had an increasingly worsening cough, prompting me to take him back to the doctor this morning before our trip out west to Nana’s house.
Now, normally the ladies at the reception desk just call your name and direct you to the doctor’s office. “Second door on the right” I always hear, unless it’s one of those rare events where I’m seeing someone else (either the physio or if my usual GP isn’t available, his wife who runs the practice with him). Since switching over to this practice when I first got pregnant with Hawkeye I have refused to see any other GP and he now sees the whole family, which has many benefits in terms of letting him see the whole picture when we’re all down with something. It also has some other…. side effects. This morning, instead of waiting for us in his own office, the doc stepped out first, holding the door open for us while greeting Hawkeye.
“Well hello there, Hawkeye,” he leaned down to get a high five from my son. ” I was curious as to who would come along with you today – your sick mommy or your lame daddy.”
Oh yeah? Well, two can play this game.
“You were telling my husband some tall tales about me this week,” I told him when I sat down with Hawkeye. “Caused all sorts of marital strife.”
“Me? What?” He gave me his best innocent look. “I didn’t say anything!”
“You told him I was laughing when I mentioned his ankle!”
He sprang back into defensive mode. “I just mentioned to him that you were giggling. I mean, he was laughing himself…”
“That’s not what he said to me when he came home with all sorts of accusations while I was dying with the flu! On my sickbed!”
“But…” I was just about managing to keep a straight, severe face while the doctor feigned shock. “That’s not my fault!”
Hawkeye just sat in his usual seat, mashing the buttons on the doctor’s phone, ignoring us.
“Yes it is! I had half a mind to schedule an appointment with your wife instead, tell her what you said, and see how you like it.”
He hung his head in shame. “Oh, I’m in trouble aren’t I?”
The photograph is not totally random. It’s the twilight sky on our drive out west this evening.
The Feathered Rose 