Behind the Eight Ball

Font size: - +

Chapter 36- That's it?

I woke in the morning and immediately reached for my phone. I swipe to my messages and smile all over again. So, it wasn't a dream.

I came down the steps to a delicious smell of apple crisp pancakes. I walked into the kitchen and kissed my Mom's cheek.

"Someone is in a better mood this morning..." she teases and hands me a plate and I'm already salivating realizing I went to bed with out dinner and now am instantly starving.

"Nothing get's by you, Mom," I tease back, joining my Father who was already polishing off his batch, but not before adding some more maple syrup.

"Hey, Kiddo. Get a good's night's rest?"

I just shoveled in a forkful so held my finger up to pause his thought so I could get a moment to answer him. There are some foods you can eat quickly... pancakes are not one of them. I swallow and say,

"Best night's sleep in days."

"We've got a doctor's appointment to follow up on that foot of yours today. Actually in about 30 minutes we will need to leave."

"I'll be ready," I tell him. I'm eager to find out when I can get this darn thing off my foot.

Mom joins us at the table. It is a shame she's always the last to join us. We really should make more of an effort to wait until she's done cooking before eating. We usually do for dinner but it seems all bets are off for breakfast or lunch.

She looks happy.

"Glad you got your appetite back, Finn. It's really good seeing you smile again."

I beam a huge smile at her before taking another forkful.

"These are really good, Mom."

She knows they are my favorite. She most likely had planned to use them as bait to get me out of my room, but was happy that it wasn't necessary.

My parents fall into easy conversation. I'm always amazed that after all these years they haven't run out things to talk about. I just enjoy my pancakes, the second helping my Mom put on my plate and then excused myself to get ready for the foot specialist.

My Dad and I make it to the appointment right on time.

I never understand the point of this. They tell you, you have to be there at a particular time. That if you're late they will give your appointment to someone else and you will need to reschedule. That you will be forced to pay for any appointment that you miss without prior notification and then you get there only to wait 45 minutes to an hour before anyone sees you. Obviously, they don't keep their doctors to the same strict regiment that they impose on their patients.

Dad and I chat it up. I bring him up to date on school and the team. He surprises me by asking about Brynn.

"So, how's it going?"

"It's a rollercoaster ride, but I'm not ready to get off," I inform him.

"That good, huh?"

"I spend most of my time being baffled and confused. Why did God make women so complicated?"

My Dad laughs. "Don't know but I'll be sure to ask him on that fateful day when I finally meet him."

The assistant calls us back to sit in another room for ten more minutes, before the specialist finally arrives.

Now, if you or I show up to work or school 55 minutes after our appointed time we'd be fired or get a demerit. This guy doesn't even give you an apology or an explanation. Instead he jumps into conversation, as if he's been there the entire time, and we just somehow didn't notice.

"You did yourself a number on that foot, Finn, but as it's a sprain and nothing broken you should be in good shape in a few weeks."

I want to say, "Nooooo, really?" This much I already knew before I left the hospital.

"Lets take a look shall we?"

He takes the boot and my sock off and pokes and prods my foot, turning it this way and that saying things like, "Uh-huh, okay, yep."  I have no idea who he's talking to but he hands me my sock and the boot and then says,

"It's looking good, seems to be healing up well. I'll see you back here in a week. You can make an appointment with the office staff on your way out."

I look at my Dad. My Dad is frowning.

"So that's it?" he says to the Doctor.

"Yep," the Doctor says back to him.

I'm thinking - You've got to be kidding me... I wait an hour for five minutes worth of this guys precious time and he's got nothing... just see ya in a week!!!

My Dad asks, the question I really want to know.

"How long will he be in the boot?"

The Doctor shrugs... actually shrugs. "Can't say. It's healing up good. If he continues to take the same care with it, a week maybe two, barring he doesn't do anything to re-injure it. Would be my guess?"

Guess...? This guy is specialist right. He didn't graduate from veterinary school did he? What is the point of going through 8 plus years of college and testing if you just have to look at a patient and guess?

"How long before he can play ball again?"

The Doctor looks annoyed with all these questions my Dad is throwing at him and by all ... I mean two. He even looks briefly at his watch before answering. "We'll know more next week."

His hand is on the doorknob, he's waiting patiently to see if my Dad has any further questions but looks like he wants to bolt. When no further questions came he wraps it up with...

"Okay, then. Thanks for dropping by. See you next week, Finn." And he quickly darts out the door.



Ruechari

Edited: 19.11.2019

Add to Library


Complain