The Doctor
Drove into Houston yesterday to visit my ENT specialist. A persistent cough was proving troublesome. The visit lasted less than 20 minutes. We talked about my late wife who used to work in the office, we talked about his mother who passed away the same year as my wife, then we got down to business. Chatted about symptoms then he stuck a scope down my nose. “Almost there,” he said as my eyes watered and my reflexes wanted to jerk my head back.
“Okay, got it,” he went on, looking down my throat. “No cancer, no polyps, just some redness on the vocal cords. It’s acid reflux.” I got a prescription for two meds, and a long page of instructions about elevating my bed and what I could eat and drink which explains why I’m drinking a cup of hot water this morning flavored with honey and lemon. No more coffee. Or tea. Because, no caffeine. Or carbonated drinks. Or alcohol. Or spicy foods. Or snacks before bedtime. It’s the cost of health. I’m going to pay it.
I drove home listening to music and thinking about my new bland life and when I got here, I discovered the hills were on fire, literally. The loop to Blanco off 290 was closed as was 290 at the turnoff to Pedernales Falls State park. Word has it that 281 also shut down. I made my home down the backroads and now I’m trying to figure out what’s happening on the fire front. I hope it’s good news. We’ll see. The woods are tinder dry and the wind is high. It’s a bad, bad combination.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale