That's what the Doctor said before he left the room. I watched him fiddle
with a pen for a short moment.
Glancing up at me with his eyes he asked, "Do you have any loss of enjoyment in things that were
once pleasurable, or any sadness or depressed mood, most of the day or almost
every day?" I am now.
"Not since I was married." My teeth were visible as I
smirked at him. If he'd been a woman I would have said only every 27 days or
so. I mused to myself. He looked down at his paper,made a few check
marks, and without glancing up he continued.
"Outside of your bruising, including your ribs, and a few
cuts, I can't say your weakened state will contribute to a fever. Avoid the
cold and get as much rest as you need. Try to avoid alcohol too." He moved
his paper over to his clipboard, then motioned it towards me with fixed eyes, "Give this to my receptionist and she'll
help you with the rest. Feel better Mr. Ingram."
With clipboard in my hand and a "Thanks Doc." I slide off the examining table and grabbed my coat left on the free standing coat hanger. It was still cold enough outside to merit such a jacket. The weather around this time of year couldn't be fully trusted, and soon winter would officially start in a month or two.
Everything other than the doctor, including the visit was mostly enjoyable. I did my best not to undress the receptionist with my eyes as he took the clipboard from me. Those have to be double D's for sure. She had dangerous smile and I could tell she could handle those guns-- cannons with ease.
She must have caught my glance or my raised eyebrows because she made sinful blush looking up at me as I stood leaning over the counter. I'm only human, at least according to the doctor.
Turning towards the exit I couldn't help but wonder about the receptionist. No ring, and a lot of cleavage. It's best to stay away from fast women like that, so I've heard. But maybe she's not so fast? I started to wonder if the doctor hired her for "cheering up" his patients before and after a visit, rather than just for her skills. She seemed to have everything figured out, and didn't seem dumb by any means. Though having those assets didn't hurt when you applied for the job.
Back outside I could see Mose still in the car, he had reversed into his spot so he could pay attention to entrance of the office. He always did things like this, regardless of whether or not he could park somewhere convenient, obvious or not, he always tried to have a spot that guaranteed two things: line of sight for the entrance and mobility of getting the rig in gear and getting the hell out.
He still sticks out like a sore thumb. Or a man shuffling to his car with broken ribs. I thought as a sharp pain reminded me as I reached for the passenger door. The radio was still on and Mose was turning off the volume as I settled myself down onto the seat.
With the door now closed, and Mose's eyes wanting to know what's next or what the doctor said, just said one thing, "Broadway Saloon". Mose grimaced putting the car in drive. Pulling away he said nothing, but as he reached to turn up the music, I could only hear a dull hum of the wind from my open window. Leaning my head against the a seat I just remember closing my eyes and trying to relax.
With clipboard in my hand and a "Thanks Doc." I slide off the examining table and grabbed my coat left on the free standing coat hanger. It was still cold enough outside to merit such a jacket. The weather around this time of year couldn't be fully trusted, and soon winter would officially start in a month or two.
Everything other than the doctor, including the visit was mostly enjoyable. I did my best not to undress the receptionist with my eyes as he took the clipboard from me. Those have to be double D's for sure. She had dangerous smile and I could tell she could handle those guns-- cannons with ease.
She must have caught my glance or my raised eyebrows because she made sinful blush looking up at me as I stood leaning over the counter. I'm only human, at least according to the doctor.
Turning towards the exit I couldn't help but wonder about the receptionist. No ring, and a lot of cleavage. It's best to stay away from fast women like that, so I've heard. But maybe she's not so fast? I started to wonder if the doctor hired her for "cheering up" his patients before and after a visit, rather than just for her skills. She seemed to have everything figured out, and didn't seem dumb by any means. Though having those assets didn't hurt when you applied for the job.
Back outside I could see Mose still in the car, he had reversed into his spot so he could pay attention to entrance of the office. He always did things like this, regardless of whether or not he could park somewhere convenient, obvious or not, he always tried to have a spot that guaranteed two things: line of sight for the entrance and mobility of getting the rig in gear and getting the hell out.
He still sticks out like a sore thumb. Or a man shuffling to his car with broken ribs. I thought as a sharp pain reminded me as I reached for the passenger door. The radio was still on and Mose was turning off the volume as I settled myself down onto the seat.
With the door now closed, and Mose's eyes wanting to know what's next or what the doctor said, just said one thing, "Broadway Saloon". Mose grimaced putting the car in drive. Pulling away he said nothing, but as he reached to turn up the music, I could only hear a dull hum of the wind from my open window. Leaning my head against the a seat I just remember closing my eyes and trying to relax.
