(Originally posted in Facebook on July 30, 2019)
I took M to a dermatologist’s appointment yesterday – he had a skin cancer spot on his face that needed to be removed. It was done with local anesthesia and in the doctor’s office, so it wasn’t that bad, but he wasn’t supposed to drive afterward.
While I was waiting for him, I sat in the waiting room and noticed that he and I were the youngest people there by a good 30 years. I’ve never seen so many wheelchairs and oxygen tanks in my life! And every one of those people had their cell phones on full blast – and took multiple calls there in the waiting room, so I got to hear all their conversations. I know all about how Cousin Stacey is doing and where they were going to have lunch after their appointment.
M came back to the waiting room with a huge bandage on his face and said he was supposed to wait an hour. He didn’t say why, so I assumed it was to make sure he didn’t have any sort of negative reaction to what they had done.
After about 45 minutes, I was tired of sitting there and my phone was about to die, so I told him it had been “about” an hour and could we go?
M: What do you mean?
Me: You said you had to wait an hour. It’s been about an hour. Can we go?
M: I never said that.
Me:
M:
Me: When you came out here – just a little while ago – you said they told you to sit here for an hour. Now you’ve been sitting almost an hour. What’s next?
M: Oh. I don’t know.
Me: Why don’t you ask the lady at the desk?
Turns out they were testing the bits they had cut out to make sure they had gotten everything . . . and they hadn’t. So they had to take him back again and cut out more. So now he’s got a big honkin’ bandage on his cheek and they say he may have a black eye since they did so much work in that area.
He also has a note to get him out of work for the rest of the week (he’s so happy!) and he’s not to lift anything for two weeks.
I got him back to the house and went back to work, so he had a relaxing afternoon, cuddling with the pups.
When I got home, we fed the dogs and started them on the green bean diet, since they’ve gotten so chunky. We’re cutting their dog food allotment in half and substituting the food with a can of no-salt-added green beans. We’re also replacing their dog biscuits with individual pieces of kibble.
As I was getting their dinner together, M offered to open the cans of green beans. He opened one and asked if they should be drained. I said yes. So he drained them and poured the beans into the dog bowl for me. Then he opened the second can and poured them – without draining them – into the second dog bowl.
It didn’t matter. The dog still ate them and enjoyed her dinner. But he couldn’t remember, in that one minute, to drain the beans.
And I know that’s how this goes – and how this is going to be. Things will go well, and then suddenly not well. It’s not going to be a steady, slow progression. It’s going to be fits and starts. There are going to be good days and bad days. I just never know what to expect.