He wants to know the news.
|“Tell me everything Doc”
Those were the words I uttered after I walked in to the doctor's surgery and saw old Doc Wheeler’s face. It wasn’t good news I was sure of that.
It all started a few weeks ago, after my wife’s constant urging to go and get checked out. She’d seen a change in me she said, something I wasn’t aware of.
“You're forgetful Brian, something's not right, you're not the same these days.
I denied it. “Everyone gets a little absent minded as they get older,” I snapped. I then retaliated, “Look at you,” I said, turning the argument around, seeking to remind my dear wife of all the times she forgot to take her shopping list, or of the time she couldn’t remember our own telephone number. I knew though I was fooling myself, it felt true, I was losing it. It scared me, I admit.
So Mary and I went to see our family doctor. He’d been the guy who’d been there for us ever since we’d had our first boy. He'd been the same age as us then.
Doc was getting old too now, he must think of retirement himself, I thought. He’d be my ally, reassure Mary there was nothing wrong with me other than being preoccupied, or maybe my hearing isn't the same as it used to be. A hearing aid may be all I need.
He’d listened to everything Mary told him though, nodding his head, giving me a look I didn’t like. He sent me off for tests.
So I’m back for the results. "Tell me everything Doc.”