Never a dull moment

Most Tuesday mornings in one of my small towns, there is a small group of women who gather for breakfast and prayer at the local cafe. They are an ecumenical group-- a couple of Episcopalians, a couple of Lutherans, an occasional Roman Catholic. I join them most weeks, and really enjoy their company. When I'm there, I'm the youngest person present by many years-- decades, really.

One of the ladies has had a rough several months, healthwise. "Mabel" first had a bad fall, slipping on the ice and breaking both wrists. She required surgery, spent several days in the hospital, and then had some extensive therapy. Not long after, she was hospitalized for some pulmonary issues that resulted in her being permanently on oxygen. Now she is quite recovered and (with the eager support of lots of small-town neighbors) back in her home. This was an impressive bit of healing, but not so surprising as you might think. Mabel is a feisty, determined woman.

How feisty?

Today she was telling us of her first visit to an orthopedist after her release from the hospital. "He was mean," she said firmly (she says everything firmly). "He hurt me when he examined me, and when I told him, he didn't care." Her speech was accented by the soft sounds of her portable oxygen pump, which did nothing to minimize her emphatic indignation.

So at her next checkup, she told her regular doctor to find her a new specialist. "I will not go back to him, and you can't make me-- so don't even think of trying."

The regular doc complied, of course, but expressed surprise, and wondered what the other guy's problem was.

"I told him I bet I knew," she said, in a voice that carried across the cafe. "I bet he wanted sex that morning, and his wife said no-- so he took it out on me."