>La Petite had a Monday appointment at the dentist to get a tooth filled.
Most of the time, in order to leave her a vehicle, Chuck would get up early and drop me off at school. La Petite would plan to pick me up at school after her appointment. Ah, such a good feeling: the need for a third set of wheels avoided once again.
Then it got complicated. Over the weekend my ankle and foot swelled up – large enough and painful enough to make wearing a shoe difficult. Knowing La Petite had a late afternoon appointment (2:50), I attempted to work in a doctor visit for myself. The talk went something like this.
Me: “I’d like an afternoon appointment, please, with early afternoon best.”
Nurse on call: “How about 11:00 or 11:30?”
“Uh, no, that’s too early. 12:00 would be the earliest I could make it. Early afternoon, please.”
“Oh, here’s one at 1:15. I’ll put you in there.”
“Great! I’ll take it. 1:15 with Dr. Ankleman.”
“Wait. I’m double checking that time and your name isn’t coming up… hold just a minute, please… oh, the computer has you down for Wednesday. That isn’t what you wanted, was it? You wanted Monday.”
“Yes, please, Monday early afternoon.”
“We have 11 or 11:30.”
“No, that won’t work. 12 noon is the earliest I could make it.”
Then we start working on times after La Petite’s dental work.
me: “How about later, after 4?”
nurse: “We have a 4:15.”
me: “Ouch! (oops, shouldn’t dance with delight when ankle hurts) I’ll take it!”
nurse: “Okay, we’ll see you at 4:15 tomorrow.”
Then I looked at La Petite’s timing again and realized it would be just too, too close for comfort. If the dentist ran late (which is rare, but it could happen), she wouldn’t get to me at school until barely four. the new family medicine clinic is a lengthy drive through town, no convenient or quick shortcuts, and takes at least 15 minutes. It’s a large clinic with a big parking lot and a time consuming registration process, and then count in the minutes to limp or crutch my way to the gallery (they’re not even called wings or floors) where the office is… sigh. It wasn’t going to work.
So I took the afternoon off. Resting the foot could only be good. I called in the half-day sick time, and then settled in to write lesson plans for the substitute.
Then Chuck solved our troubles, provided a second vehicle; he got sick. Fever, weakness, tummy troubles – no way possible to work through it. He had to stay home.
It is indeed an ill wind that blows no good.
Supper? A stop on the way home at the local family restaurant for their famous chicken soup. It just seemed right. I drove, I paid, La Petite did the walking part, and we brought it home just in time for her numbness to wear off.
Chicken soup for the aching family. It worked.
>Oh chica. Get your ankle better fast.
>Ahem. One could possibly call a relative to help solve the time and transportation muddle . . .