"Doctor--" said the patient tentatively.
"Hm?" he said.
"You're so quiet."
"You were talking away there--and then you got so quiet."
"You see something terrible?"
"Some disease in my eyes?"
"No, no," said Billy, wanting to doze again. "Your eyes are fine. You just need glasses for reading." He told her to go across the corridor--to see the wide selection of frames there.
Billy has just returned from a jump in time, and he's sleepy. The problem is that he's examining one of his patients, and that patient is mistaking Billy's silence for tragic news. Detached retina. Glaucoma. Cataract. The patient is panicking.
Tomorrow morning, I am having a medical procedure. When I say that to friends, they immediately assume that I'm having a colonoscopy. I'm not. I'm having an esophagogastroduodenoscopy (EGD for short). Basically, the doctor is using an endoscope to examine my esophagus, stomach, and small intestine. I'm having this done because I've been experiencing what the doctor thinks is extreme gastric reflux.
I am really not concerned about this procedure. I'm more concerned about not being able to eat or drink anything after 7 p.m. except clear fluids tonight. So, for my last meal, I just had a stuffed crust chicken pizza, chased down by Diet Mountain Dew, with a cookie for dessert. I know, I know. It wasn't healthy, but it tasted pretty damn good.
I don't think that the doctor is going to discover anything seriously wrong tomorrow. I'm not expecting a diagnosis of stomach or esophageal cancer. I'm expecting him to tell me to cut back on caffeine and pop and spicy foods. More fiber and vegetables and fruit will be the prescription.
In about a half hour, I'm heading off to a basketball game with my daughter; she's playing in the pep band. After that, I will return home and enjoy a nice snack of water washed down by water.
Saint Marty is thankful for a day off work with really good legal drugs tomorrow.