A to Z April Challenge E For Embellished Experience

I am Contemplating having a procedure done.  (By the way, that C word was taken directly from a wonderful post written by Nouveau Scarecrow.)

In order to help me make, what is to me a scary decision,  I was referred to an expert.


First of all, I have to tell you that I immediately regress to infantile behavior as soon as I enter any kind of medical facility.

Secondly, the haunting mantra taught to me by my Italian heritage, “Trust no one other than your family” bubbles up to the surface and takes over, leaving me with zero ability to discern fact from pre-conceived perceptions.

Now, I will freely admit, that I might embellish the re-telling of this experience, you know, just to keep your interest.
By the way, I have learned the art of embellishment from the best in the business.  And you know who you are RG, don’t you?

Okay, so back to my embellishment of my experience with the expert.

Although the door was unlocked, it looked like no one was around.  Except for the power saving emergency lights, the room was dark.   The office was dimly lit, but I could make out  the somewhat gruesome “in-progress surgery” artwork taking up every inch of space on the dingy walls.

Ross was with me and we both began to call out…”Hello?”  “Is anyone here?”

We were just about to leave, when a woman came shuffling out from “the back”… her slippers making  flip flop, flip flop sounds.

I know I shouldn’t judge a person strictly by appearances, but, well okay so I did.

The office was apparently supposed to be closed that day.  She told us that she had only come in to catch up on some paper work.   I get it, she hadn’t expected to run into anyone.  But really, PJ’s in the office?

I told her why I was there.   She shuffled into the receptionist's area, you know the little area behind the bullet proof glass with the tiny opening?  Yeah, that one.

I watched as she reached down and pulled out what appeared to be a big old ancient looking ledger.  She choked on the cloud of dust that erupted when she opened the book.

I noticed that there were not any appointments listed in the book.  Lucky me, it looked like I would be the first one.

While I waited for her to determine when the Doctor would have availability to see me, as if…I noticed a bulletin board hanging on the wall.  It was filled with thank-you notes from former patients.   That made me feel a little better.  I even managed a slight sigh of relief.   But as I looked a little closer, I saw that there weren’t any notes dated after 2006.

Ross asked Pajama Mama how long she had been with her employer.  Impressively, she said 25 years.

Perhaps I should have been impressed by that,  but, I immediately thought old, the man must be old.  Not that that is a bad thing.  I mean I am old.  As long as he has steady hands, that’s what counts, right?

We were there on a Friday.  It was no
surprise that I had my pick of appointments for Monday.   We made the appointment for first thing Monday morning.  I wanted to be the first patient, while he still had his wits about him, you know?

All weekend long I thought about my Monday appointment.  I already had a definite idea of what the Doc would look like.  I wondered if he would be wearing pajamas.

Monday morning, bright and early, I was on time for my appointment.

Once again, except for the power saving emergency lights, the office was dark.  Did I have my appointment time wrong?  Nope, I heard the flip, flop, flip flop and there she was.
She was making her way around the office turning on the lights.  I guess I was a little early.
But, this time the flip flop, flip flop noises were made by her nurse clogs which appropriately matched her nurse outfit.

When she called me to go into the examining room, I caught a glimpse of the expert Doctor.   <sigh>
He looked just as I imagined.  Balding on top, straggly clown hair on the sides.  Okay at least it wasn’t pink hair, but it was wiry gray hair.  Shirt half out of his pants, clown tie askew.  Okay, not a clown tie, but it was askew.

I couldn’t concentrate on what Dr. Clown was saying.  I only heard Charlie Brown Adult type noises mwa, mwa, mwa maw.

I think I heard something about “there could not be any guarantees that this procedure will eliminate the pain you are experiencing.”  I’m pretty sure some of the blah blah blah translated to “only a fifty-fifty chance that it will”… fix your problem.

I walked out dazed, confused and with a prescription for some sort of test.

So for now this somewhat exaggerated, slightly embellished and definitely influenced by apprehension tale will have to end with a “to be continued” conclusion.

Do you take liberties to make a story more interesting?


My son Joe passed away 16 months ago today.
I miss him more and more each day.