Now he’s gone and done
it. Hick’s got his teat in a wringer. He’s stuck in a sticky wicket. He’s in a
jam. Up the creek without a paddle. His hands are tied. That’s what happens,
you see, when Hick is left to fend for himself.
When he and The Pony returned from
the State USBC Youth Bowling tournament in Jefferson City on Sunday, he checked the answering machine about
his upcoming doctor’s appointment. The one his own physician set up with a
specialist. According to Hick, an endocardologist. That’s a new one on me. But
Hick insisted. I figured maybe specialists were combining their specialties
these days. Hick swore that’s what his doctor told him. An endocardologist.
“You know! A diabetes doctor!”
“Oh. I think you mean an endocrinologist.”
“Maybe. Whatever.”
So…Hick apparently
deleted the two calls on the answering machine. Let the record show that he is
not capable of picking up the phone, running through the menu, and selecting MESSAGES.
No. He goes to the bedroom, kneels by my nightstand, and listens on the
old-fashioned machine.
Last night, Hick asked
me what the doctor’s name is that he’s supposed to see this week.
“I don’t know. You said you wrote it down and put it in your phone.”
“No. I put in the
appointment day and time. Not the doctor. You said they called. What was the
doctor’s name?”
“I let the machine pick up so you would have it. I don’t know. It was
something foreign. I don’t know what kind of foreign. Just something that made me think,
‘I wonder how you spell that?’ You listened to the message. Go listen again.”
“I cleared out the
messages.”
“Why?”
“Val. People have to
wait through all those messages when they try to leave one.”
“Maybe back in 1980. Not on this phone.”
“Well, I deleted the
messages, and now I don’t know what doctor I’m seeing. I have the address,
though. I’ll put it in my GPS.”
“Okay. So you’ll know who the doctor is when you get to the office.”
“No. It’s a medical
building.”
“I guess you can walk in and ask for the endocardologist.”
And yet I'm sure he will find the right doc.
ReplyDeletePeople have to wait through messages before leaving one? I'm shaking my head, not that i don't say questionable things.
ReplyDeleteMaybe it will take Hick weeks of wandering to find the right doctor?
ReplyDeleteThe results should be interesting. At least he may get some added exercise as he wanders from suite to suite asking for an endocardologist.
ReplyDeletejoeh,
ReplyDeleteEventually. Hick had plans to call his regular doctor, and ask who they referred him to.
******
Stephen,
Yeah, back in the 80s. You would hear a beep-beep-beep-beep, one for each call already on the machine. It's not like they got to hear the messages from the collection agency wanting to talk to people you never heard of, from the school regarding an upcoming community activity, from the congressman wanting to know your position on upcoming legislation, or the town meeting that you could join on a certain day and time.
*****
Sioux,
Or perhaps weeks of WONDERING...
*****
Linda,
Interesting, yes. He might get shown the bum's rush if the office people have their fill of his wandering.
I needed a good chuckle tonight, you will have to thank Hick for me.
ReplyDeleteWe don't want to encourage him.
Delete