“Yeah”, Miss Cathy said, agreeing with me as if I’d been
serious when I’d said, “From your lips to God’s ear", this in response to
her saying that “I could die before her”.
”Nobody’s time is guaranteed in this life you know.”
She continued as if we were really having a conversation about
mortality instead of verbally sparring with each other.
The fact that I’d just ‘wished’ an early death on myself to
get away from her completely going over her head.
“You don’t have to be a certain age to die.” She said, quite
please with herself, looking to the doctor for a visual ‘high five’ as if she’d
just ‘nailed it’ with her observation.
Dr G was sitting between the two of us, poor man (Switzerland
between France and Germany) awkwardly trying to find some neutral place to gaze
upon.
“Oh my God!”, was all I could think. “Shoot me, shoot me
now!”
“Mother” I interrupted her before she could continue
gloating about the possibility of my early demise.
“I was being facetious.”
“You know what” Dr G said, having found a safe spot near the
door to focus on, “I’m not getting in the middle of this one.”
Miss Cathy shrugged and changed the subject.
“How is my cholesterol count?” She queried, showing no signs
that she’d forgotten the other subject at hand, which was whether or not to add
a statin to her daily medications (which total 12 pills at last count…..8 in
the morning and 4 at night).
“All medications have side effects you know.”
Dr G opened up what is turning into a volume of notes worthy
of a JK Rowling’s novel and after a careful review said, “Last time we checked
it wasn’t that bad at 218, which isn’t too bad, but the LDL was 107 which is
spectacularly good…so on second thought I’m going to say ‘No’ to the Lipitor.”
“Her protected cholesterol is really so good that I don’t
want to do it.” He said to me.
"Yes", Miss Cathy said, as if she was being vindicated
that she was right all along (when actually she wasn’t right so much as just argumentative and stubborn).
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