Wednesday, February 18, 2015

An Appointment With Destiny, Now With CAKE! it is, Tuesday afternoon, and I'm sitting in my dark basement lair, off school due to 8 inches of snow, waiting to see if I have another day of reprieve...and the phone rings. I knew it wasn't school. I have caller ID, you know. Only the most modern technology for Mrs. Hillbilly Mom and her land line.

"Hello? May I speak to Mrs. Hillbilly Mom?"

"This is her."

"I'm calling from Dr. Foreigner's office to confirm your appointment tomorrow at 1:30. With cake."

"Oh! Sure. I think I can make it."

"Good. We'll see you then."

Wasn't THAT a fine how-do-you-do!

I knew I had an appointment in the city with the physician who had done a bit of minor surgery on me last fall. To tell you the truth, I am not all that fond of him. He is the kind of guy who does not really seem to think a woman knows anything. Not because he's a doctor. Just like we aren't worthy. Oh, he was entirely competent and knowledgeable about the procedure. But I felt kind of like I was an ungulate, and he was a veterinarian. He did his best to take care of me, but did not want any input from me. He was doing it for my own good.

Yes. I knew I had an appointment. Had I not left my plans upon my desk for Wednesday when I left on Friday, just in case we had a snow day in between, so I wouldn't have to rush and get things together? I swear. I'm never gonna burn these sick days. I have had this appointment since last August. What are the odds? his office was confirming my appointment, and promising CAKE! Just to sweeten the pot, I suppose. Take a dreaded office visit and offer a confectionery carrot on a stick. Come to your appointment, and you can have some cake!

Or...wait...maybe she didn't say cake. Maybe she said cape. Perhaps I was supposed to dress in a certain manner. No superfluous below-the-waist garments. A cape. Drape myself in a cape. That would be kind of drafty, what with the temperature at 17 degrees, and the wind chill in single digits. Surely I wasn't supposed to arrive like Batman. Or Little Red Riding Hood. Or Superman.

Huh. Maybe she said, "With Kate." Yeah. That's the ticket. Maybe someone who works there is named Kate. And she would be doing my exam. Not that condescending doctor. That had to be it. Not as good as CAKE. But better than seeing the doc.

I just hope she didn't say kale.

Alls I know is...I have an appointment.


Kathy's Klothesline said...

An appointment AND a surprise! I vote for cake. Be careful on those icy roads.

Sioux said...

Some people I know go to dentists that still administer laughing gas. Not mine.

Now, I hear that people are going to doctors who serve cake? Where's my cake? Why don't I ever get any cake before I jump into the stirrups or slip into the paper gown?

Do you get to pre-choose your cake? The cake flavor? The type of frosting? A corner piece or an "innie"?

Now I'm all riled up...

Hillbilly Mom said...

Yeah. I voted for cake, too. But all I got was Kate.

OH! I also go to a dentist (rarely, when I can't avoid it) who administers laughing gas.

I got the stirrups and the paper gown, but alas, no cake. I was flattered, though, when Kate, the unflavored practitioner who may well have been an "innie" said for me to follow up with my own obstetrician! Heh,heh! Then she corrected herself to the GYN word, realizing that my days of needing an obstetrician were 17 years past.

Hey! I can't wait to tell my younger sister the ex-mayor's wife, who I'm sure would not have been mistaken for an obstetrician-needing patient.