The clinic was running fifty minutes late,
revelation of which fact brought mixed feelings. On the one hand I hate to be
kept waiting. On the other, it indicated that the consultant and his underlings
were taking the time to do a proper job, which meets with my approval. I
decided to take the half full position.
As to the consultancy itself, it went differently than
expected. It seems my little intruder has hardly grown, if at all, during the
last three years, but it has changed its nature. This led the consultant to
suspect that it isn’t what they thought it was, but probably something similar.
Or maybe not. So now they want me to go for another ultrasound scan, and maybe
another biopsy, and we’ll take it from there. There was no frowning or shaking
of heads; the body language of all concerned suggested… well… a lack of
concern. So now I wait for another letter.
What I found really interesting was this:
Rather than sit in a chair for fifty minutes, I decided to
go for a wander. I found one of those franchise places selling magazines, soft
drinks, sweets and so on. One whole wall was taken up by five shelves of magazines,
the top four of which were crammed with ‘lifestyle’ publication after ‘lifestyle’ publication. The covers
featured things like celebrities doing attitude, men with unnaturally well
muscled torsos, provocative and sensationalist headlines, some scrawny young
singer with extra attitude pulling her dress down to reveal her little black
nipple covers, etc, etc.
The bottom shelf contained the serious magazines, and every
one of them – without exception, I swear – was upside down. I remember a time
when the top shelf was the one to avoid. Seems the world has turned.
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