Tuesday, February 9, 2010

On the Table

I was on the table-- or more accurately, in the bed-- waiting to be put out so the gut doc could peer inside my colon with her fancy camera. I had been in that place just last week and the same gut doc had yanked a polyp out of my stomach. The blond athletic nurse leaning over me this time with a huge needle she intended to jab into one of my contrary jumpy veins began to talk.

"I don't get why people can't work," she said.
"They stay home and get big and fat and lazy," she said.
"It takes work for me to be in this shape," she said. "I work out six days a week at [a local expensive gym]," she said.
"And some people get handicapped parking permits and I see them springing out of their cars," she said.

"I don't have a handicapped parking permit," I said.

sapphoq healing tbi

1 comment:

  1. Did I ever tell you that I have a handicapped thingy that I can hang on my mirror? .. Course it goes back to when I ruptured my disk, but people see it under my visor and think I am a fraud even if I never park in the handicapped spots, but I keep it for when my grandmother uses my car :) .. Ayuh