Saturday, June 28, 2008

Confidence booster for Quasimoto - part 1

So I make my way from the doctor's office to the lab. I'm still walking like I'm drunk (see previous entry for more info) my left foot dragging behind me like a overstuffed sack of laundry. With every step my mouth breathing becomes more labored and the green fog more potent. The string of drool protruding from the left corner of my mouth has found lasting companionship with the string of drool now protruding from the right corner of my mouth in addition to the white string of gooey spit connecting my top lip to my bottom one. I'm almost to the lab. The hallway looks distorted - like the reflection in a carnival mirror. The door to the lab seems to be very far away - and the floor seems to be curving downward. Mouth breathing becomes more laborious. I finally arrive.

I open the door and am greeted by about 25 pairs of eyes that all register the same reaction: "Holy cow that is one nasty-sick-looking woman." There are no empty chairs. People are standing along the walls and sitting on the floor. The television is blaring one of those stupid waiting room infomercials about the importance of using Applesauce in your brownies recipe instead of cooking oil.

As I'm signing in someone is called to the back - vacating a chair. I plop down in it without a second thought to the people who arrived before I did and were standing against the wall or sitting on the floor. All 25 pairs of eyes shot me some stink-eye, but my cloud of green fog protected me like a suit of armor and no one said anything to me. The people sitting to my right and left scooted as far away from me as they could witout becoming lap-sitters on the people sitting next to them.

There was an older lady sitting across the waiting room from me. She was staring at me. I stared back at her with my one good eye (the other one had sunken all the way back in my head and now had a white film over it).

She says to me "I know you." I'm thinking, "No you don't, lady." She asks me if we worked together before. I should have just said "Yeah - we used to work together but I quit that job because I didn't like you." But I just said "no." She lowered her chin to her chest and kept staring at me over the top of her glasses. She asked me if go to First Christian. I said, "yeah." She says, "Oh you sing there don't you!" uh-huh... She says, "I didn't recognize you." I'm thinking "Thank the Lord you didn't recognize me; I'd like to think I don't normally look like Quasimoto." I continue to stare at her with my one good eye and wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. I say nothing. She continues with the stare-down. After about 60 seconds of just staring at me she sniffs and says "I see you got your sick face on."


Of course, at this point, there are a multitude of things that I could say to her: Yeah I look like this because I'm sick, what's your excuse; At least my face will get better once I feel better which is more than I can say for yours - you get the idea. But I don't. I grunt at her and turn my head as if to end the conversation. Then I see him. Another confidence booster in the works.

More to come...


VikingMom said...

So what you're saying is that it sucks when you're famous? The next time you see her you can be concerned and ask her if she's feeling well...because you can see that she has her "sick face on".

Hee hee.

I'm now waiting for the third installment.

Sarah B. said...

"You got your sick face on?"...really? Some people! Although this is very entertaining and I almost feel bad saying that because you were in pain and totally "not you" and here I am looking forward to hearing more about sick Heidi and her visit to the Dr. :)