Call the Doctor

“I have more doctors than friends these days,” my cousin-in-law, Scott, sighs as he digs into his pancake breakfast.

“It’s like whack-a-mole,” I say.  “I go to one doctor and then another appointment pops up on my calendar.”

“We’re not even that old,” my cousin Libby laments.  “What will it be like when we’re 90?”

I’m lucky, I know.  I am in good health but Scott had to have open-heart surgery over the summer.  He has a reason to have all those appointments.  I have no idea why I have all of mine.  Every other day it seems like I need to be poked and prodded and drained of blood samples.

And let’s not even discuss the colonoscopies.

I nibble on a slice of bacon as we celebrate my birthday at our favorite breakfast spot. 

“I ask my friends, why do we always have to discuss our health?” Scott says.

“Remember how we used to roll our eyes at our grandparents when they itemized all their ailments?’ Libby says.

“And now, my grandchildren roll their eyes at me,” I say.  “Not to mention the cries of disgust if I get too detailed.”

“Let’s stop talking about health right now,” Libby offers.  “Let’s talk about our travels and our families and anything else!”

We nod agreement and start discussing Libby and Scott’s next driving trip back East.  They are planning on more than 40 days of adventures.

“We’ll have to clear it with Scott’s doctors, of course,” Libby says.

“I have to run,” I say as I glance at my phone.  “I have a doctor appointment.”

“What for?” Libby asks. 

I immediately launch into a detailed description.