Not bad for a fat girl


Throwback Thursday – A Visit to the Doctor

I feel crummy. I’m going to the doctor later today. I tried to nap, but I couldn’t fall asleep. So here I am, thinking back on all those childhood doctor’s visits. I got sick a lot as a kid. Here are some of my memories of doctor’s visits (sorry if some are a repeat, my brain is a little fuzzy right now).

1. Highlights Magazine. I couldn’t believe how naughty that Goofus character was and how good Gallant was. My favorite part of the magazine was the hidden pictures page.

2. A lollipop at the end of the visit. My current doctor’s office still has them, although theirs are sugar free.

3. The time my pediatrician told me there was a bunny rabbit inside my ear and that’s why it hurt so much. I didn’t believe him, but it made the ear infection easier to bear.

4. The absolute terror I felt when I knew I was going to get a shot. My son handled that particular childhood trauma so much better than I did, but at 15 he still dreads them.

5. The nurse in her starched uniform complete with the little white cap. I have no problem with nurses in scrubs, doctors too, but something about that nurse’s uniform inspired confidence.


Daily Prompt: Write Here, Write Now – Sick Day

Sick pooch in bedI hear the nagging alarm at the usual time and hit the snooze button. Slowly it dawns on me that I don’t feel right. My head feels swollen and full and my body feels worn and ragged. I push myself to a sitting position and turn off the alarm, which is buzzing again. I remember now. I am in my clothes. I am fighting off sickness but I am losing the battle, even after a ten hour sleep. I shuffle to the bathroom to assess the damage. I hardly recognize myself. My only desire is to return to the warm nest I have recently vacated. This wish is impossible.

I wake my sleeping son with a croaking voice. He is puzzled. So am I. I turn on the computer, squinting at the blinding display. I fumble through a few different prompts and finally request a sub for my class. I am hopeful one will arrive. I immediately begin plans for the day. I write feverishly. Do I have a fever? I’m not sure, but I continue writing. Plans for the day complete I shuffle to my closet and dress. I do not look professional. I look horrible. Good.

I drop my son at his school and park at my own school. I choose my spot carefully. I walk into the office and apologize for not being superhuman. I am forgiven. My pallor, no doubt, is convincing. I make a set of copies and weave my way to my classroom. I shuffle a few things about and organize stacks of work for the day. Still, no sub has taken the job. The principal tells me another teacher will cover my class until a sub comes. If a sub comes. Should I feel guilty? I do not. I am sick.

I leave just as the bell rings. My strategic parking pays off. I back out without difficulty. I drive home. I survey my bed. At last. My wish comes true.

Write a post entirely in the present tense.

Trackbacks & Pingbacks

  1. The Steps Of St. Paul’s | Experimental Fiction
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  5. Harder than it is | Casually Short
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  11. Love, actually | ब्‍लॉगते रहो
  12. [M.M.X.I.V. 29] TA busywork | Never A Worry
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  25. everyday | peacefulblessedstar
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  27. The Quiet Hour | The Dragon Weyr
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  34. very present | sarahscapes
  35. Just Now – Passionately Bored
  36. Today Is What Matters Now | Flowers and Breezes
  37. To the Sea | Broken Light: A Photography Collective
  38. Daily Prompt: Write Here, Write Now | Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss
  39. Caught in a Deep-Freeze Polar Vortex Moment: Feeling Pensive about the Health of our Nation | Institute for Hispanic Health Equity
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  43. Love the Look | The Photo Faith Challenge
  44. Right Here, Right Now | Just Visiting This Planet
  45. In a contented smile | Navigate
  46. Striking a Pose… | Haiku By Ku


My Poor Aching Feet

k5286114The other night my dear mother took me out for a night out in honor of my father’s birthday. He passed away more than a decade ago, but we still celebrate his birthday. We ate a delicious dinner, then enjoyed the opera at Symphony Hall. It was a fine, elegant evening.

Here’s the thing, though, my feet are killing me as a result. We parked in a garage near the opera hall and walked two blocks to the restaurant. Two blocks. Not even long blocks. Short blocks. Tiny blocks. Hardly even blocks at all. It was fine. Not a problem. I mean, I didn’t walk quite as quickly as mom, but her heels weren’t quite as high as mine. At least I don’t think they were.

They aren’t really that high, those heels. I would call them a “moderate” heel. They’re a cute pair of peep-toe sling-backs. I’ve worn them on many occasions, and they dress up an outfit beautifully. I hadn’t worn them recently, though. Apparently the last time I wore them I was younger and lighter. Well, younger for sure, I’m not sure about lighter.

I began to realize that they might not have been the best choice as we descended the metal stairs from the fourth level of the parking garage. As I clanged my way down my toes began to feel a little pinched. No big deal, I thought, I can handle this. I was happy to arrive at the restaurant and take my seat. I didn’t give my tootsies another thought until we were on our way back to Symphony Hall. Holy cow, my mom can move for a woman her age. I did my best to keep up. How embarrassing.

We got there early so we milled around the lobby before the doors were opened for seating. Finally we headed inside the theater proper. Our seats were on the aisle, so we kept popping up to allow people to go by. By the time the lights went down I was ready to remove my shoes. I didn’t though, because I knew putting them back on would be worse. The good news is the performance was magnificent, and had my full attention.

Intermission, on the other hand, was miserable.  We hustled off to the ladies room along with every other woman in that theater, and stood in line. Fortunately it moved quickly, because by this point my feet just plain hurt. Normally my mother likes to wander the lobby. She often bumps into an acquaintance or two. These little exchanges make me somewhat uncomfortable under the best of circumstances, but add in achy feet, and I took a pass. I think mom was a bit disappointed, but she joined me back at our seats.

The second act was just as wonderful as the first, and the standing ovation was well deserved, if not comfortable. Then came the walk back to the parking garage and the climb up the metal stairs to the fourth level. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

I think I may have to swear off heels for a while, until there is less of me to support on the balls of my feet. My honey doesn’t exactly tower over me, so I usually choose flats anyway these days. Maybe I’ll send those heels packing. They have served their purpose, and they no longer meet my needs. Meanwhile, my poor feet are still aching. Tomorrow I think I’ll wear tennis shoes.