My cardiologist called me the C word, at my check-up three months ago.
I tried not to catastrophize about it. But I was concerned, ’cause criticism can stick. Conversely, I considered it comical, that my cardiologist could call me that!
I concocted a cunning counter-move.
My cardiologist, Dr. Deeb Salem, is considered a completely caring and competent doctor, by everybody who comes into contact with him. But ever since he called me the C word, and I’ve clinically consulted his female co-workers — I’ve called him out, concerning that circumstance.
Care to conjecture these women’s countenances when I confronted them with my cardiologist’s comment?
They were completely confused and confounded, of course.
Yesterday morning, as I contemplated my up-coming cardiology appointment with Dr. Salem at 3 o’clock that day, I considered comprehensive conversations about
- my congenitally corrected transposition,
- my other cardiac conditions and concerns,
- Dr. Salem calling me the C word,
- et cetera.
Concurrently, I considered this:
I know the title for my next blog post!
… a cognition I see is completely c-less, in the current moment.
I started seeing C-words, consecutively, on my walk to work, including
cop (and cars!)
and more crosswalks and crossers.
I considered what music to include in today’s post, and concluded:
Of course! I’ll include a composition by keyboardist Chick Corea! He was born in Chelsea, Massachusetts, where my father grew up!
Here’s Chelsea’s Chick Corea’s composition, Sidewalk:
Anyway, as I continued on the sidewalk, I noticed more cars and commuters.
You can’t completely see her, but that’s my co-worker Jan, across the crowded street. I wonder if that looked creepy to anyone — my taking that many consecutive shots of Jan.
Jan is definitely NOT the C word my cardiologist called me (although she may have used various c-words, out of my earshot, when she’s feeling cranky). I consider Jan to be other C-words: caring, compassionate, comical, and convivial. I wonder if she considers herself those things?
Anyway, I called out to Jan and she crossed over, to see me.
After conducting individual and group therapy at work, I left for my cardiology appointment. On the way, I encountered more C-words:
… before encountering my cardiologist.
That’s Dr. Salem, in the corridor before my check-up, calling me a “pain in the ass” to his co-worker!!
I continued my cunning scheme of calling out Dr. Salem calling me the C word, as his medical assistant, Julie, cuffed me:
Julie said, “He called you WHAT?!? That’s completely uncalled for!!” (or words to that effect).
Anyway, everybody yesterday seemed very pleased with how I’m doing, cardiac-wise. And Dr. Salem and I cracked up, several times, during my cardiology appointment.
After the appointment, I casually encountered my other cardiologist, Dr. Mark Estes, in another corridor. Continuing my consistent cracking on Dr. Salem, I said to Dr. Estes:
Dr. Salem called me a pain in the ass, today! I’m going to put that in my blog!
When I saw Dr. Estes’s concerned countenance, I reconsidered. Then we exchanged these comments:
Me: Okay, I may not write that. But I’m definitely including in my blog something else he called me, three months ago. He called me … CHUBBY!!
Dr. Estes: That’s worse.
Before I conclude this “C word” post, I have to choose a category for it. How would you categorize it? Also, are there C words I could have included here, to make it more complete?
Thanks to my cardiologists, to Chick Corea, to people from Chelsea, to c-words everywhere, and to you — of course! — for coming by, today.