Skip to main content

The Doctor Is In

On Saturday, my nephew pulled out his doctor kit. After giving my wrist a bandaid, he took my temperature.

"Look, Aunt Beth," as he held the thermometer inches from my face, "You have a fever."
"I DO!? Oh dear! What do I do? How do I get better?"
"You have to stay in bed for ten days."
"Okay. I will."
"Now say Ahhhhhhh."
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh."
"Uh oh. You have tongue-throat."
"Tongue-throat? What does that mean?"
"It means your tummy will be sick for ten thousand days."
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh no." 

After sharing this hilarity with a friend, another friend tweeted her under-the-weather-woes this morning...and it was soon resolved that we should ask Dr. Jake for his diagnosis. So I sent him this note:

 Dear Dr. Jake,

I was telling one of my friends that you were an excellent doctor this weekend, and she said that she’s been feeling quite sick today. I thought maybe if I told you what her symptoms are, you could tell us what is wrong with her and how to fix it.


She has a very sore throat. It hurts to swallow. She has a fever, and a runny nose. And her head is tired.


What do you think? What kind of sickness does she have? And what should she do to get better?


Thank you. 



So Terra, here is your diagnosis and prescription:

"I don't know what's wrong. But I think it's fevacore. It's really really bad. She has to jump up and down 10 times to get better.  I love you Aunt Beth"




(If only sickness & doctors were always this fantastic.)

Comments

  1. Umm...could he have given a better response??

    ReplyDelete
  2. this is AMAZING beth.

    ReplyDelete
  3. kat - i know. I KNOW. boy genius.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Simone Weil: On "Forms of the Implicit Love of God"

Simone Weil time again! One of the essays in Waiting for God  is entitled "Forms of the Implicit Love of God." Her main argument is that before a soul has "direct contact" with God, there are three types of love that are implicitly  the love of God, though they seem to have a different explicit  object. That is, in loving X, you are really loving Y. (in this case, Y = God). As for the X of the equation, she lists: Love of neighbor  Love of the beauty of the world  Love of religious practices  and a special sidebar to Friendship “Each has the virtue of a sacrament,” she writes. Each of these loves is something to be respected, honoured, and understood both symbolically and concretely. On each page of this essay, I found myself underlining profound, challenging, and thought-provoking words. There's so much to consider that I've gone back several times, mulling it over and wondering how my life would look if I truly believed even half of these thi...

I Like to Keep My Issues Drawn

It's Sunday night and I am multi-tasking. Paid some bills, catching up on free musical downloads from the past month, thinking about the mix-tape I need to make and planning my last assignment for writing class. Shortly, I will abandon the laptop to write my first draft by hand. But until then, I am thinking about music. This song played for me earlier this afternoon, as I attempted to nap. I woke up somewhere between 5 and 5:30 this morning, then lay in bed until 8 o'clock flipping sides and thinking about every part of my life that exists. It wasn't stressful, but it wasn't quite restful either...This past month, I have spent a lot of time rebuffing lies and refusing to believe that the inside of my heart and mind can never change. I feel like Florence + The Machine 's song "Shake it Out" captures many of these feelings & thoughts. (addendum: is the line "I like to keep my issues strong or drawn ?" Lyrics sites have it as "stro...

Esse - Czeslaw Milosz

I'm on a bit of a poetry binge this week, and Monday afternoon found me lying on the luxurious shag rug of a friend's tiny apartment, re-reading some of my favourite poets (ee cummings, William Carlos Williams, Czeslaw Milosz). It is an adventure to re-open a collection and wonder what will pop out, knowing something you've read before will strike you afresh, or you will be reminded of a particularly moving line that you had somehow forgotten. Like this piece from Milosz, which floors me. Every. damn.* time. The first time I read it, I lay in a park with a friend (this same friend who offered me her rug as my reading burrow) and demanded that I share it with her. I spoke it carefully, and then, into the post-reading silence, I slammed the book shut, and dropped it as loudly as I could onto the grass. "I'm never reading anything again," I declared, "What else is there to say?" Esse I looked at that face, dumbfounded. The lights of métro st...