Never on a Sunday

My new life of cathing and being involved with the medical industrial complex is beginning to take on some routine which, I am not is sure a good thing or not but I am doing it. And I am finding out the medical industrial complex (MIC) never sleeps.

This weekend was Dianne’s birthday and Bridget and Gabe wanted to prepare a dinner of Dianne’s choice which was a shrimp fest. Dianne figures she can spend the cost of one nice dinner at an upscale restaurant and feed four or five people nicely. Dianne has found this great Asian market where they sell huge shrimp fresh from the sea. Head in place along with flipper and slime, Of course, there has been little to no “processing” to the little scavengers but if a person is welling to “pinch a head” and “pull a tails” or two or more—like five pounds a great and exotic meal can be had—I guess this how folk from Louisiana eat their crustaceans. Luckily this is more hand dexterity then I have access to and luckily Anakah came over early to help us get ready for dinner and was dieing for something to do. So, Dianne and Anakah were busy doing the shrimp and I was stuck dicing and mincing garlic, onions, and celery. This was a real “Waltons/Norman Rockwell” moment—the whole day was, I spent hours with Ani teaching her some cord to play on the piano. The afternoon was kind of nice. We had turned NPR over when ‘Car Talk” had erupted out of the radio to “ classical Christmas, the other University affiliated public radio station—out side there was a winter storm which was supposed to have pounded the neighborhood with inches and inches of snow but did not . choosing to spit snowflakes intermittently round the yard mixed in a kind of grayish slush which fell from the sky like a biblical plague. The ground and atmosphere was to warm for any snow to lay down—but if one imagined a real snow fall while listening to the Christmas music coming from public radio, one could feel the Christmas spirit seeping in round the front door contaminating the whole house—this was when the see interrupted by the phone ringing.

Some weird sound duck was calling and asking for me by name. Who ever was on the phone a European accent so think—I thought the guy was drunk so did not pay much attention to the call at the onset. We tend to get these kind of calls from time to time, our phone number is one digit off a local car dealer ship and we have gotten all kinds of strange calls. It was only after the caller identified as a physician associated with my primary doc that I began to take notice of what he seemed laboring inform me that he had done another culture on my urine sample and he RX I had gotten earlier in the week would not work and he was letting me know that he had called a prescription on the new Rx which would work and that script was at my l\ocal pharmacy and I could pick it up at any time.

This was all happening on the speaker phone so I had witnesses. This doc was working and calling me on a Sunday—I was confused but in the end happy—I think this could have been another Christmas miracle.