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when
they’re healthy.
    “The poor
man,” she continues. “If it wasn’t bad enough that he had to get Viagra, then
this. Works a treat now, though. He’s like a bull in bed.”
    “ Muuum .”
    “And your
cousin Debbie, well if that’s not a case for negligence, I don’t know what is.
She went to get results of her pap smear and they told her nothing apart from
the fact that she needed to lose a little weight.”
    “She does
weigh a hundred and eighty kilos, Mum. The doctor most likely thought it was
his duty to tell her.”
    “Beside the
point.”
    “She can’t
get out of a chair without a hoist.”
    Mum gives a
little chuckle. “Look, I’d best be going. Colin and I have our Morris Dancing
class in half an hour.”
    “White
outfits and ribbons and bells, Morris Dancing? And wooden sticks and… and
skipping?” I stifle a giggle. The picture being conjured of Colin and my mother
skipping is priceless.
    “Colin
happens to be very good.   And it’s
wonderful exercise.”
    “I’m sure it
is.”
    “Don’t be rude.”
    “Bye, Mum.”
    “Bye, darling.
Do ring me and let me know as soon as you find out. And don’t worry. There’s no
point worrying till you know for sure. It’ll only give you grey hair.”
    I hang up
the phone. I guess she’s right. There’s no point in worrying until I know for
sure. But there’s this little voice inside me. And it’s not singing ‘Don’t
Worry, Be Happy.’

 
 
 
 
    Chapter 5

 
    It’s eleven
o’clock, Friday morning. Brendan has taken an hour off work. He and I are
sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s surgery and, surprise of surprises,
she’s running late. In fact, the doctor is not even in the surgery. Maryanne, the
receptionist, has informed me that she’s still doing house calls. Who does
house calls in this day and age? If I’d known that was an option, I would have
got her to come to me at work.
    “She
shouldn’t be long,” Maryanne says. “She knows she has appointments.”
    We wait for
another half an hour. By this time, the other not-so-sick people have given up
and gone home and I’m beginning to wonder if this isn’t a ploy to get rid of
unwanted patients. Doctor’s offices always seemed to be littered with people
who don’t look ill. They have nothing better to do with their day. Well, I’m
not one of them. And I’m not leaving until I have a diagnosis and a plan of
action.
    Forty-five
minutes. The doctor has called in to say she’s delayed but should be back
within half an hour.
    “Would you
like to reschedule?” the receptionist suggests, kindly. For some reason, or
maybe because Brendan and I are the only fools left in the place, she’s decided
to act like a human. I, on the other hand, am beginning to behave like a
banshee.
    “Do I look
like I want to reschedule?” I glare at her.
    “Um, no.”
    “I’ve waited
this long and I’m not leaving till I see the doctor.”
    “Okay.”
    “Glad we’re
on the same page.” I give a loud huff and plonk back into the comfort of my
vinyl-clad chair.
    Then I hear
the sound of a car. I look out the window and see Dr. Jackson, keys and bag in
hand, flicking the automatic lock on her Audi. She wanders towards the back of
the building, taking in the new additions to her empire like she’s browsing in
a gift shop. I want to scream ‘hurry up’ but Brendan has put his hand on my
knee.   He knows what’s going on
inside my head and is silently soothing me with his hand.
    “Won’t be
long now,” he whispers.
    Another
twenty minutes pass before the receptionist summons me. “Doctor will see you
now.”
    And as I
walk down the hall to my fate, I can’t help but wonder what exactly Dr. Jackson
has been doing, because if I go in there and smell freshly squirted perfume or
see freshly applied lipstick, we won’t have to worry about cancer. I’ll be in
jail for murder.
    *****

 
    “So, what
can I do for you today?”
    I stare at
the doctor with what, I’m