It is becoming more and more evident that when exposed to repetition, I can learn. Yesterday proved that once again.

Krl 's doctors appointment was at eleven. I had been up and about for quite some time but she seemed to be sleeping pretty well. About forty-five minutes before we needed to leave the house I went to check on her. She was awake, but still on the couch. I got her moving as I returned to finish getting ready.

I guess we are getting goofy. While we were in the examination room waiting for x-rays to be developed I did my impersonation of the doctor.

"Can you move your toes?"

"Your feet are cold but you have a strong pulse, are your feet normally cold?"

"We got some really good pictures today, let's look at them."

"I think everything is looking pretty good. I'll see you back in three weeks. If you need anything call the office. Take this to the front desk."

I was right on except he said two weeks instead of three. I do realize that he is way to professional to say leave your co-pay with my receptionist. That is what he pays her for!

I guess Krl and I could do this exchange at home and avoid having to get out and about and best part is we could keep the insurance co-pay in the family!

The real doctor did say that Krl should see some definite improvement over the next week or so. I sure hope so. He stuck to his guns though and reinforced his three months in a cast theory.

I guess since I have been reminiscing about other childhood experiences I couldn't help but think about my childhood doctor. I was born in a very small rural hospital in Loraine, Texas. (If memory serves me correctly it had eight beds before they "added on"). Facts are, my two brothers and two of my sisters were born there as well. Odd thing is Krl was born there too, four years apart from me. Same hospital, same doctor. Four of the five of us siblings were delivered by the same doctor (Dr. "Bruce"), same nurse, and my Dad used to say, "same insurance man". TJ the youngest was delivered by the other doctor on staff (Dr. Terry).

I can remember as a child, dreading trips to the doctor because Dr. "Bruce" believed in shots. These weren't injections, these were shots. Looking back it seemed as though the examination room was very similar to a torture chamber. The small metal examination chair with the dreaded sterile storage container located above and behind the chair (it might have been an old version of an autoclave for sterilization) that when opened would release an evil smell and vapor as the doctor prepared his healing concoction for administration. Dr. "Bruce" believed in preventative medicine. Needless to say, I didn't. If one of us was sick, he would line up the whole crew and give us all a shot. It use to really make me mad when one of the other siblings got sick. I think the shots may have been to separate the really ill people from the fakers. As for me, I always faked being not sick! Dr. "Bruce" was pretty smart though, on his staff he had one nurse quick enough to catch us and another large enough to hold us down. If I could get out of that exam room, the game was on.

I will never know why someone didn't call the authorities! Where was CPS?

Seriously, those people in the waiting room should have been paying for that show. Now that was entertainment!

I wish I could find a doctor like Dr. "Bruce". He was quite the doctor. I understand specialists, I see the need for them. I just think that often times today's practitioners run you around the circle to spread the wealth, especially if you have insurance, medicare or medicaid! Dr. "Bruce" should have had a "S" on the front of his shirt and worn a cape because he could do it all.

I can forgive Dr. Bruce for the shots, I had a pretty healthy childhood. What I can't forgive is when he would mop our throats. Now that was terrible. The doctor wasn't a glutton for punishment though, he would send us home, instructing Mom to repeat this the next three days. I think he couldn't stand to have another bout that quickly. Usually he would send us home with orders to mop our throats, Mom would enlist the help of Grandpa. That was some bad stuff. You had to figure that if they had an eight inch long "Q-tip", a bottle of orange looking medicine that reeked of metal, and they postioned you in front of the toilet before they began, nothing that happened was going to be good. It was experiences like this that developed my superior gag reflex.

I may have been healthy because I was too scared to be sick.

I wonder what an office visit cost back then?

I did spend a portion of my afternoon in the office. End of month means reports to be completed. Late in the afternoon I had to get out of the house to go to the post office and to pick up some meds for Krl.

I listened to a conversation between a postal worker and a customer. The postal worker was telling the customer the U. S. Postal Service had put in for another rate increase. That's about right.

I have discovered that when it comes to city utilities (water, sewer, trash pick up) there is no difference when we are home or when we are gone. I don't think they are reading the meter. It reminds me of a time when I had a huge flower pot sitting on the meter lid, they didn't read it forever until a new meter maid asked me where our meter was located.

I think back to a conversation I had with my brother. It was during a very bleak and trying time with the struggles of the family business. He was trying to give me a pep talk and said "Five years from now, we'll probably look back on this and laugh." My response to him was, "Maybe. But what if these are the good old days?"

Now that is scary!

A quick "left over" follow up. For lunch yesterday, Krl and I had ham sandwiches from the left over ham. For supper (we may live in the city where they have dinner, but I'm from the country) we ate our own version of cobb salads, with diced ham. Heh, heh. I'm getting the hang of this left over thing. If I fix Krl an omelet tomorrow it may be ham and cheese. If I get a chance I may look for a ham salad recipe. HHhhmmm.

I've "hammed" it up enough.

Have a day!

FATHER, oh happy day!