Today I took my 90 year old Mom to Dr. Thomas Beers in Gainesville. Mom has had trouble swallowing so she insited on keeping this appointment. We left Fort White at 9:15 A.M. and this was the following conversations . . . the whole truth.
Mom as we're pulling out of the driveway: Well, Lord. Look at these long fingernails.
Me: Mom, you get them cut on Friday.
Mom as we continued on our way to Gainesville: Oh greens! I love greens.
Silence.
Mom, as we're driving through High Springs: Well, I sure wouldn't go to that church. They don't believe like we do.
Me: Silence.
Mom, as we're driving through the countryside: Oh, cows!
Me: Silence.
We finally drive into North Florida Regional Hospital area and immediately became lost.
Me: Mom, where is Dr. Beers' office?
Mom: Well how would I know?
Me: Mom, he's one of your doctors!
So we drove and drove and drove past a multitude of doctors' offices.
Mom: Oh, Dr. Sharpe! Oh, Dr. Smith!
Me: Mom, are they your doctors?
Mom: Well, no.
Me: Then why are you calling out their names?
Mom: I don't know.
Eventually, we found Dr. Beers office where we waited and waited and waited. The good doctor finally came in the room and asked mom questions.
Dr. Beers: What seems to be the problem?
Mom: I don't know. Yes, I do. I have trouble swallowing.
Dr. Beers: How often does this happen?
Mom: I don't know.
At which point I glance at Mom and think, What? You don't know?
Dr. Beers: Do you have trouble swallowing with solid food or liquids?
Mom: I don't know.
By now I am exasperated and I say, Mom, be specific! And I reiterated his questions.
Mom: Well, I don't know.
AHHHHHH! We drove to Gainesville and Mom can't answer the questions. So Dr. Beers eventually told Mom he wanted her to take a couple of swallowing tests, followed by a follow-up visit.
Mom: Do you think it could be the cancer coming back?
And there you have it! But, Dr. Beers reminded Mom that she is 90 years old and things wear out, like swallowing muscles. (or something to that effect)
We finally left the office with three scheduled appointments in the future.
Mom: I don't like his diagnosis.
Me: Mom, there was no diagnosis. You have three more appointments before you know anything.
Mom: Well, I still don't like it.
And then I figured it out. Mom doesn't want to get up at 8:A.M. and drive to Gainesville three more times. So we headed home back through the countryside.
Mom: Horses!
Me: Silence.
Mom: Pike!
Me looking at Mom: What?
Mom: Pike. They dig ditches.
As we enter the driveway, Mom says: Just look at these fingernails. They're so long.
Me: Silence. Get me in that house!
And folks, that's the whole truth, but with many more comments omitted!
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