I’ve had the sniffles. Relentless headache,
sore throat, runny then blocked then runny/blocked nose, coughs and the sweats...and
I’ve not been able to shake it for a couple of weeks.
So, after a stern talking to from a friend of mine (thanks
girlfriend), I hauled my butt to the doctor. Good thing too. She took one look
at me and muttered a little before donning a face mask and poking
sticks into my mouth and gadgets into my ears.
“Open wide!”
“Yes, this ear looks good, now turn to the other side.”
Out comes her stethoscope.
“Breathe in and out.”
“In again, and out.”
“And again, in and out.”
“Once more – in and out. Really big breath this time...iiiin
and ooout.”
Geez, this was rigorous however I’d spotted the container
filled with colourful spoils and knew that if I played my cards right, I'd receive my glucose fuelled reward. But
alas, Doctor declares, “You have a sinus infection and suspected pneumonia. I
want you to go for an X-ray immediately” and promptly writes a script for some
meds, a referral for some film and strict instructions to call her later that
afternoon.
No mention nor whiff of a jelly bean. Outrageous!
So off I go to the X-ray rooms. I look around and smile at a little
boy who smiles shyly then looks away. I see a lone tradie, an exhausted looking
woman with her kid, a young professional. I spot an elderly European woman
heavily drenched in gold jewellery and embellished clothing flicking though
magazines while speaking loudly with a lady who appeared to be her daughter and
ask myself, “Are we related?”
Yes sir-ee. We were a bunch of licorice all-sorts and I couldn’t help but
wonder who these people were and why they were here. What’s their story?
Suddenly I’m jolted from my bubble
back to reality when they call my name.
“Through here”, they tell me.
I’m given
a basket to place my belongings and told to strip to my underwear and sport one of the blue gowns on the
bench in the change room before sitting in the lounge prior to a radiographer coming to whisk me
away for what I had dubbed ‘my
silver screen debut.’ I was being caught on film after all. Yes, indeed I romanticised
the scenario because a) That's how I roll and b) I felt vulnerable. Besides, it’s times like these that a little romance (and comedy!) can
go a long way.
Sitting there in my blue gown, blood sugar levels dropping
rapidly (darn you Doctor!), looking around at the others waiting for their ‘debut’, acknowledging one another with a nod and a smile all the while wondering if they were packing barley sugars and how I might get a hold of them - it dawned on me. Once stripped
of your belongings and down to your underwear and a blue cotton gown, we’re all the
same.
I didn’t know who these people were nor did I know their tales or vice versa, yet what I
felt was something intensely human and real. I felt truth in the simplicity of the fundamental commonality among us all in that we want to know that everything is going to be OK.
We all
want to love and be loved. We all want a friend, a lover or a golden retriever
to share our good, our bad and our blue gown moments with. That sometimes, no words are necessary and that a nod and a smile can really make a difference to someone.
I don’t know if I’m romanticising again (so sue me!) but I
figure a visit to the chemist, one box of tissues, a pack of antibiotics and a
giant bag of jelly beans (VICTORY!) later, is a
good way to further ponder my theory.
Loving you, loving me...TLT x
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