Mom went to the doctor the other day — she hasn’t been to one in a hundred years, so she’s rusty, to say the least.
She’s also blonde.
She was telling me about the difficulties she was having, trying to crawl up on the examining table — she was totally confused. I still don’t understand why, but OK, she’s Mom. I know not to question these things. 😉
And maybe I do have a bit of her psychic ability, because when she told me she was given a gown to wear, I said, “Mom, please say you put the opening in the BACK.”
*silence*
*hysterical laughter*
“Why didn’t you TELL me that BEFORE the appointment?!?!”
Apparently the doctor walked in and wondered what exactly she was SMOKING before she came in to the appointment. 🙂 Her friend had also advised her not to wear scandalous underwear, which she did anyway, and the Good Doctor got a nice view of that, too. Which he appreciated.
One other story: Mom never goes to the doctor (it’s a lack-of-coverage thing, as sainthood — i.e., caring for elderly parents — doesn’t earn you any care of your own). The only time she ever crosses a physician’s path is when she’s dating one. Which the Good Doctor was NOT trying to discern when he asked:
“Are you seeing any other doctors professionally?” (i.e., for other problems.)
To which, she said:
“Nope, but I’m seeing one rather unprofessionally!”
Scared the hell outta him.
She makes me so proud. 😉
Filed under: Sometimes I can’t figure out how we’re related. Other times, how could there ever be any doubt?