Practicing to Walk Like a Heron

On Going with My Wife to Her Doctor

40 On Going with My Wife to Her Doctor We don’t know what’s wrong. We’ve waited for more than a year to find out what’s wrong. We’ve waited for five specialists to tell us what’s wrong. We’ve waited through thigh-length blood clots, migraines that seem the eternal twin of sustained electroshock, pains that twist her stomach into the devil’s balloon animal. Every diagnosis has amounted to nothing more than maybe. Med after med, strung out and taken daily, a rosary prescribed by priests with malpractice insurance. Now here we sit again. I try to read a month-old Newsweek. They call her name. “You wait here.” Yes, here is where I’ll wait. No one sits next to anyone. Now and then a cough hovers over all of us. Nearly everyone stares. Now and then a sigh. Behind the counter, the kempt receptionist welcomes each entrant, checks date of birth, current address, accepts the co-pay. It’s mid-April. It’s still cold. One specialist proclaimed, “It’s likely lupus.” Another, “Let’s first work on those headaches.” Another ordered, “We’ll set you up for a series of steroid shots. Can you start tomorrow?” I look across the room. The TV is tuned to a health channel. A woman in a bright pink shirt is smiling and talking about what to eat. Sitting under the set is a man, unshaven, cuts across his forehead. He has a cause and a cure. “In sickness and in health.” I am ashamed. I open the Newsweek: “The War in Iraq.” A nurse calls, “John Larson?” The unshaven 41 man gets up, walks across the room. “How are you today?” and they disappear down the hall. I turn a few pages: Brad and Angelina and their kids. The woman on the TV is talking about diabetes. The mail carrier comes in, drops a stack on the counter. “Hi, girls!” I think, “We will be okay.” I think, “Too many medications. That many cannot work together.” I laugh to myself thinking, “We’re living in a age of side effects. What would it be like to have an erection lasting four hours?” I know in mid-June our gardens will be lush, blossoms surrounded by the comforting hues of ground covers, grasses, mosses. Maybe she will be glad for that. A patient sits down next to me, asks, “Why are you here?” “It’s my wife.” “She sick?” “Yes. You?” “Yeah, I’m sick too. I think it’s just what’s going around.” ...