Doctor's Visit

Thursday was the follow up appointment to check Ma's thyroid levels. She had zoned out while we waited in the waiting room. The Doc helped me rouse Ma.

I was invited into the examination room so I could hear what was going on. Blood levels good. Blood pressure excellent.

Ma asked whether she had to take that pill twice a day. That pill is a 1,000 IU Vitamin D. She had asked me a few days earlier about the dosage. I told her one tablet would be fine. The doctor concurred with me.

"I'll write down a list of the medications your grandma is taking," said the Doc.

"Excuse me, but I'm her daughter, not her granddaughter."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said the Doc as if he had grievously offended me.

"No worries. I'm flattered."

The Doc grabbed a pad of paper and in his crabbed doc handwriting began making a list of medications and dosages Ma is supposed to take. I tried not to make a "tsk" sound at his appalling penmanship.

"There. Well, is it my imagination or does Ma seem less sleepy?" asked the Doc with a large grin on his face.

Hello! You had to help me rouse Ma when it was her turn for the examination!

"It's your imagination," I said smiling politely.

In The Works

Himself and I stopped at the big orange box store down the road apiece, next town over. (approx. 6 mi.)

"What's that going up?" he asked.

"Rumor has it, it's going to be a grocery store. Prissy told me The Mahket. I'm hoping it's a movie theater."

"Nope, doesn't look like a theater. Looks like a grocery store."

"Won't Ma love that."

"She ain't shopping here."

Veggie Tales

Another Mahket day.

Stomach knotted in worry.

Guilty memories.

Split watermelon grins smiling up from the floor.

Never mind.

A new day. A new beginning.

Piles of green beans littered the floor like so many green pick up sticks.

A sigh of relief. I didn't do it.

The produce boy next to me piled yellow summer squash into the bin.

A squeak.

A roll.

Summer squash cascaded to the floor.

A sunshine avalanche.

A sigh of relief. I didn't do it.

Looking at bags of apples.

Bright, red MacIntosh.

Another produce man pushed a cart of cardboard boxes past me.

He lifted a box.

A rumble.

Cucumbers tumbled to the floor like so many giant green crayons.

A sigh of relief. I didn't do it.

Your Weeble is Showing

Friday is approaching. Friday is another trip to the Mahket. Yeah, I can hear you all tittering with glee. As usual, I'm not looking forward to it. Besides hating the expedition, I'm worried. The last two times we went to the Mahket all the little scooters were in use. Ma had to use her walker. Pushing her trolley took a lot out of her. I barely was able to get her up the stairs into the house.

I'm also nervous about a repeat performance that happened to me last time we went shopping.

We were in the produce department. A display of personal watermelons caught Ma's eye.

"Get me one of those."

Personal watermelons. I looked at the sign. Looked at the produce and looked at Ma. She had shuffled off to the about to rot markdowns.

Personal watermelons. Look like little watermelons except they are round. They are about the size of a 10 pin sized bowling ball. I need to make that distinction because here in New England, we play candle pin bowling. The bowling ball is the size of a grapefruit.

Get the picture? Bowling balls piled in a pyramid. I went to take one from the top and the whole pyramid began to slide and one watermelon jumped and hit the floor with a sickening splat. It looked up at me with a wide, red, watermelon grin.

Ma turned around from looking at the display.

"I don't want that one."

No duh! I felt horrible. I had murdered a watermelon. Me! I looked around and there was no one around so I moved the watermelon under the counter with my foot. I grabbed another candidate and turned to put it in the carriage I was pushing. Another woman near the rotting produce had seen my interaction. She gave me a cold look. Her mouth in a taut line. J'accuse.

Ah Ha

Three Stooges fans, Himself and I had enjoyed the clip from The Three Little Pirates. Himself was passing through the kitchen on his way to the bathroom.

"Ma ha?"

"Ah ha."

We continued with the routine and burst into a gale of laughter. At this time, The Young One happened by.

She gave me a side-long look. "Scary," she said.

"I'm scary? You don't know scary. Wait until I'm 90. I've seen my future."

Himself's voice floated out from the bathroom. "It's not pretty."