I’m at the doctor

My son texts me, as he does often,”what are you doing?”

”I’m at the doctor“, I reply.

which sends a chill of panic through my son. because of a number of reasons. the first one isn’t fun. I’m of an age where he is thinking about my mortality. any doctor‘s appointment sends him to thinking about the day he is going to have to deal with my possible demise. I’ve assured him I will live forever so he doesn’t need to worry, he remains unconvinced. the other reason is .....I’m a truly terrible patient. I mean terrible. if the doctor says “rest” I hear “go clean the house, someone might come to check on you“.

if the doctor says “you have a virus”

I hear,”nothing is wrong with you, suck it up you big whiner“

so, my son is preparing himself to deal with whatever imaginary instructions my doctor might have. he’s probably on the phone with his wife preparing to stage an intervention. (they did that once.)

Did you know they have a tracker on my phone? they will ask me what I’m doing at any particular place at a time. I feel like a rebellious adolescent skipping school to smoke behind the bleachers.

i have actually considered (don’t tell them) switching out my phone. only using my work phone. ha!!! That would teach them!

but that’s also when I would be in a terrible wreck and they would flip out when they had to go to the ER to get me. and then they’d put a chip in me instead of my phone.

argh

so, I behave, and wait to see the doctor.

meanwhile, all the doctor‘s plants are alive. that’s promising. because that means he either has a knack for keeping things healthy or he makes enough to hire a plant company to keep his plants healthy.

did you know that exists? a company exclusively for the purpose of keeping healthy plants in your home or business. they come in, water, trim off dead leaves, when your cat pees in the plant and it dies they replace the plant.

How cool is that?

oops doctor is here. better go.