I wouldn’t call the room cheery, but it’s nice enough. White, boring walls, with plenty of windows allowing sunlight to filter in between the slats of the blinds. The chairs are comfy, and there’s a huge TV that’s never on. This is the “infusion room” at my doctor’s office.
That day, there were six of us: two nurses, three patients, and a plus-one who turned out to be a preacher working on his notes for an upcoming funeral. I sat with my arm out so Shirley could draw blood and change the dressing on my PICC line.
“So what have you been doing since the last time I was here?” I asked her.
“Me? Nothing. Work.” She smirked. “That’s all I ever do. Go to work, go home, watch TV with my cat.”
“We need to get you a life,” I said–me, the one whose life centers around doctor appointments and the occasional jaunt to Kroger’s. “I know–let’s rob a bank.”
Evelyn turned from the IV she was hooking up for one of the patients. “With this economy, that might not be a bad idea. I’ve always wanted to mastermind something like that. It would be such a challenge.”
“I’ll drive the get-away car,” said another patient whose IV dripped steadily into her vein. She was a retired truck driver.
“I don’t have fingerprints,” Shirley said. “Don’t know why not. They kept trying and trying to print me at a job I worked at before. Never could get any.”
Just for fun and to pass the time, we talked about it for a while, how we’d all work together, what we’d do with our share of the money, et cetera. I didn’t have much to offer to the scheme other than writing a book about it someday. Probably in prison.
Later, Evelyn unhooked the patient she’d connected the IV to, and the woman stood to leave. I’d noticed she’d been quiet during our silliness and realized why when the only man in the room stood to leave with her. “Ah!” I said. “No wonder you didn’t pitch in with our shenanigans. You’re married to a preacher!”
“She’s a preacher too,” he said.
She patted me on the shoulder on her way out. “Y’all go ahead with your plans. I’ll take your confessions when you’re done.”
That’s teamwork for ya.
That is the CUTEST story! Love it! 🙂 You are so fun.
Thanks, Kat! It was a fun day–as fun as we could have in a doctor’s office anyway. 🙂
Hey, I know the feeling. I had to spend all day once a week hooked up to an IV while going through chemo (eight years ago). But I never had a day like — everyone was always so quiet. Could-a used you shaking things up :).
Does that mean you’re 8-years cancer-free?
I love the punch line! Life does write stories beyond our imaginations! Thank you for sharing! Made my day. Well, part of it anyway!
So glad you enjoyed it, Ceci. Hope the rest of your day is stellar!
You should write it! It would make a great comedy.
It would be fun. I’ll add it to my list of ideas.
Fun way to “pass a good time” as our wonderful Cajuns say. I thought about volunteering if ya’ll needed another hand, but since “Arthur” has taken over my life for the last six months, I wouldn’t be able to run. And when caught, I’m afraid I would snitch to save my butt. Sorry. Love ya.
You could be the look-out!