July 15th, 1969
My throat had been unusually sore for the past couple of days, but as I lacked the usual symptoms of flu or colds, my mother dragged me off to the doctors earlier today.
Our family, as do many other families in Sedgefield, visit the medical partnership of Levy & Berman, both highly capable in their profession (Although, as a child I preferred to be examined by Doctor Levy as he always handed out red lollipops after his thorough inspections.).
It was, as had been expected, a case of tonsillitis.
I had been asked to return to the waiting room while the doctor explained, to my overly-concerned mother, the preparations involved in my need for me to be booked into the local hospital for an immediate tonsillectomy.
Hell, I’m gonna be the only person in history to have his tonsils removed – twice!
I can’t say I’m looking forward to making history!
It was during my second stint in the waiting room that Marnie Marnowijk had stumbled in.
He looked terrible, which made me feel slightly better. His eyes were puffed up and watery, and his nose was red from constantly having to blow it.
I was slightly concerned about catching whatever it was he had, but after his disclosure to the equally concerned lady that he had chosen to sit next to, was relieved to discover that his condition was not contagious.
“I hade dis time o’ da year,” he had lamented. “Id always makes m’ allergies act ub dis way.” He gave a long blow into a fresh handkerchief. “Every year id yust seebs to get worse an’ worse.”
It was just a bad case of pollen-related hay fever – apparently a very bad case too.
A few minutes later, Doctor Berman appeared, and after bidding farewell to the patient he had been seeing, indicated to the lady next to Marnie, that he was now ready to see her. She disappeared down the passageway towards his consulting room.
On seeing Marnie, he immediately said to the lady behind the reception desk, “Bring me Mr. Marnowijk’s file. It’s just a prescription renewal. We don’t need to keep him waiting.” Then he also disappeared back down the passage.
The receptionist, using a key that was mysteriously fastened to the inside of her pocket by means of an elastic cord, opened the M-section of the large filing cabinet behind her and removed a thick folder.
Then she too vanished down the passage.
A couple of minutes later, she reappeared with the file in one hand and a slip of paper in the other.
She handed the paper to Marnie, who after thanking her, stumbled out again.
I have never felt such relief and joy in a person’s exiting a room.
The receptionist suddenly turned to me and confessed, “I need to make a…quick turn. Could you please tell anyone coming in that I’ll be with them shortly?”
“Thank you. You’re a dear. I’ll get you another lollipop when I get back.” She hastily slapped the file down on the reception counter and went off to make her…quick turn.
As everyone knows, the worst part about seeing the doctor is not the examination, but the goddamned awful lack of any decent literature available in the waiting room.
For the first time ever, I was pleased to find some rather stimulating and interesting reading material.
As to the validity of what I had read, I will unfortunately have to wait until a later date in order to verify my findings.
At the moment I’m waiting for my father to arrive home early from work so that he can deliver me to the hospital.
I hope my impatience doesn’t affect my healing process.
I am already considering a number of possible actions that could be involved in another, far more important, healing process; the one involving curing Hannah of her worst ailment!!!