Amarillo Is Getting Sick

I called my doctor's office a couple of weeks ago, and asked for an appointment. The earliest I could see my physician? Two weeks. Thankfully, I wanted in for a check-up and I'm not suffering from some strange disease, that would give me two weeks to live.

The doctor's office lobby is slammed. Of course, I never think I'm as sick as anyone else in there. I and I don't want to sit near them. But the chairs are full, the music is bad, and magazines vary in condition. Folks are coughing and sneezing, as I was a couple weeks ago, but they sound much sicker, than I did.

Going to the doctor now, is what going to the airport used to be for me. I always saw someone I knew. I see a seat open up, right next to a guy I went to WT with. I make a break for it, and with clear lungs, I'm in that chair quick! "So", I ask my friend, "What are you here for?" One of these days, someone is going to make it clear, that it is none of my business. HIPPA be damned, I want to know, why people are here. I decide I can't catch my friend's hernia and relax.

I haven't had the flu since Thanksgiving '81, so I'll skip the shot for now. Panhandle allergies are going to kill me, long before the flu does. The doc comes in...we chat...he looks in my ears, and we're done. I waste no time, leaving the lobby. Can't hang with sick people. On the way to the car, I sneeze. And cough. Dang, I've caught a hernia.