Okay, so y’all know I’m not crazy about cold weather. I also hate being late (a problem when I’m married to the slowest-moving man in the world), and I really, really hate getting exposed to germs from people who are too sick to be out and about.
Last week I had an appointment for my annual exam. I was ready in plenty of time, but we still wound up having to hurry. Then it started snowing.
The last time it snowed on the way to the doctor, on the way home I came within inches of putting the car in the ditch on our steep hill. I got it safely back down to the bottom, then slipped and slid my way up that hill on foot; a neighbor took me the rest of the way.
We made good time until we got into the hospital parking garage. The garage is not made for SUVs and trucks. We finally zigzagged our way to the top, where Bob let me out at the door. I rushed inside to check in — and found out my doctor has moved to another floor.
I texted Bob, went downstairs, found out the doctor was running 30 minutes behind, and sat down in one of the few empty seats . . . and the small child behind me started hacking out his lungs. His little face was apple red, he could hardly breathe, and the cough was enough to make a person shudder.
Now, when the kiddo was little, we lived out of state, so I understand not having a babysitter. But this poor little guy was with his mother and his grandmother. Why in the world didn’t mom leave sick toddler home with grandma instead of bringing them both to sit in an office filled with pregnant women (and me)??
On our way down out of the scary garage, we watched a man in a pickup back out, smack into the pickup behind him, shrug and drive away. No big deal to him, though I wonder if the other owner would agree.
Luckily, the snow stopped, I didn’t get sick, and I’m good for another year. I think I may just hibernate for the rest of the winter so I can stay that way.