Which Doctor?

Original art by Matt Maloy  Sailing HideAway

As I was setting up the cameras to film the relaunching of our sailboat, the HideAway, I took a bit of a tumble.     The lens cap on my camera fell off and was rolling down the ways to the water.   Not about to let that happen, I made a diving lurch protecting my camera by holding it high above my head while reaching down with my other arm to corral the rolling cap.   

Off balance, I did a fine imitation of one of those rolly polly bugs you remember from childhood.   Meanwhile, my lower ribs slid under my hip bone.   It was every bit as painful as it sounds, but I saved my $5.00 lens cap and provided a bit of entertainment for the ever present dock watchers.

It hurt so bad that I thought maybe I should see my doctor.  So I dialed the number.  If you have hearing aids as I do you know how difficult telephone conversations can become.  The nurse said my regular doctor couldn’t see me that day and asked “Which doctor?….” and said some other stuff  I couldn’t make out,  but I said  “ok”.       

“Come on down then”  she replied.

The nurse escorted me down a long hallway deep in the clinic to a room I’d not seen in prior visits.  Glass beads hung in the doorway and the room was poorly lit.   Several large mounds of smoky candles were burning, their melting wax creating sculptured water falls onto the floor.   There were smoking sticks emitting strong, although not unpleasant odors scattered about in the room with walls of many colors. 

I sat on a stool

 in the middle of this room of wavering shadows and swirling fragrances waiting for the doctor.  As my eyes adjusted to the light and smoke I noticed an enormous man sitting on a higher chair that was adorned with things you may have dreamt about and fortunately failed to remember until now.    As I recall his name consumed most of the letters of the English alphabet and could not be pronounced anyway.

He began to speak but I could not fathom a word he said.  Granted, I may have had my hearing aids crossed and was hearing stereophonic sound backwards.  My mind by then was as smoky as the room.  

So I pointed to where it hurt and he poked at it with his finger.

“Ooooo….  Eeeeee!!!” I winced

“Ooooo Eeeee?” he asked “ Ooooo…    Ooooo…    Aahhh! He diagnosed.

Then he went into a long dissertation about going to Walla Walla in, on, or with a “Bing Bang”.

    

It may have been the candles or in may have been the smoldering sticks but I’d had enough. I got up, staggered through the smoke and glass beads and went home.  I took a couple of aspirins, but I didn’t call him in the morning.   

SMALL BOATS ROCK!   

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