escort, part 2

So… I managed to make it through my colonoscopy. The gastroenterologist told me that it went well, that there were no abnormalities. At least not in my colon. I didn’t ask if she found abnormalities elsewhere. And she didn’t say it was abnormal for someone to not be able to find an escort to take him/her home from a procedure that requires an escort. I thanked her for that. She said I did a great job during the procedure, especially since I was awake for most of it.

And then I asked her, “So now what?” She looked confused. I said, “Now, what I supposed to do? Since it looks like I am not dying of colon cancer. What do I do now?”  She said it was fine for me to return to my regular diet.

“But what else should I do? Like with my life? Because I don’t really feel like I should be here.” She said they would take me to my recovery room and then they would call my escort to take me home.

“But then what?,” I asked.

She said that I should probably rest for the rest of the day. But after that, I could resume normal physical activity.

I said, “Please don’t take this the wrong way. But I was hoping for more.”

“What were you hoping for?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly a hope. But I forgot to tell you at our last appointment… when we talking about liver failure … that if someone had told me before I was conceived how sad and lonely I would be in my later years, living in a place where I can’t even find a single escort … if somebody had given me that information and offered me the choice of being conceived or not being conceived,  I possibly may have said, ‘No thanks. I think I’ll take a pass,’ and asked ‘Do you have any other options?’ I was hoping I would not feel this way after the colonoscopy.”

The doctor told me that makes perfect sense.

And I said, “So maybe next time we should skip the colonoscopy, if I am still alive and living without an escort?”

She said, “Yes, I agree. That makes perfect sense. Like what would be the point?”

“Exactly!” said I.

She began jotting something onto her notepad. I pretended to not watch. I think this went on for several minutes. Before I finally interjected.

“What are you writing about?”

“Oh, just a few notes for our records. Nothing exciting, but nothing bad … in case you’re worried.”

I admitted that I was getting worried, but decided I’d rather not think about it.

“Really, you have nothing to worry about. I would tell you if there was.”

“I know you would. I have total trust in you.”

She stood up, and looked out into the hallway. “Well, I guess I guess this is goodbye.”

“For now,” I said.

“For now,” she agreed.

She was almost out the door when I called out, “Wait!”

“What?!!” she asked, worriedly.

“I forgot to ask, how much do I owe you?”

She said they would be billing my insurance and I would be responsible for my co-pay.

I said, “That’s what I assumed, but I feel like I owe you more. That I should give you at least a little something.”

“You mean like a gratuity of some kind?” she asked. “Tbat’s not really necessary.”

I said, “I know it’s not necessary, but it would make me feel better to give you some small token of my appreciation.”

“Well, OK. What do you have in mind? What are my options?”

I said, “I don’t know. Is there something that you need?”

“Hmmmm,” she said, scratching her chin. “Something I need. I can’t really think of anything at the moment.”

“OK. I’ll try to come up with something.”

She told me not to worry about it.

I said, “Well, you know I’m going to worry.”

She said, “I thought so. But I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” I asked, “Didn’t give you anything, or didn’t worry?”

“Well, both, I guess.”

I paused to reflect for who knows how long, until I finally said “That’s going to be hard.”

“I know,” she said, “But I think you can do it.”

“Gosh, I am always amazed that you always have such faith in me.”

She said, “Well it’s true and you should never doubt it. I know it’s going to be hard, but just be kind to yourself, OK? Do you think you can do that for me?”

I wasn’t sure what to say.

“If you can do that for me, I would consider that to be the most perfect gift of them all.”

I sighed and thanked her.

She said that my escort was probably on the way

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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