Paralyzed

I take a few deep breaths and exhale slowly. Maybe I should make tea.  On those British mysteries- tea is needed to face any tragedy. If your wife was the victim of a serial killer- “have some tea, love”. 

The email message was clear- “You have an urgent message from your doctor. Please open the link below immediately to hear this message”. Which choice do I make? If I open it I might find out I have ten minutes to live. Or worse still- I might expose myself to email pirates out to steal my identity. Should I just delete it?

My mind races to an old movie. The poor fellow sits in front of the bomb with his wire cutter in hand while the timer counts down inexorably. Which will he cut, the red wire or the blue wire? “Ten, nine, eight …”. Snip- he cut the blue. He guessed right. After some tea, the hero’s heart rate returned to normal. All went well. But that’s TV. This is reality. Tea won’t fix it. The deep, slow breathing has helped. My decision is slightly less pressing. There is no timer. 

My Inner Voice is sympathetic with my plight and offers a welcomed distraction- “Hey, go fill the bird feeders”. Great. I’m outta here … The chickadee is staring at me as I pour the striped sunflower seeds into the two feeders. He hops from branch to branch as he anticipates his delicious though late breakfast. The rustling sounds of the bag alert the neighborhood. SInging and chirping birds pass the word on. The restaurant is open.

I sat and watched the parade of grateful and hungry birds grab some fast food and move on, many coming back for seconds. My mind embraced this moment which allowed me to feel I was in control of my little world. 

After what may have been a half hour or so, Inner Voice moved past being warm and supportive. He turned serious. “You know you are running. You always run away in the face of stress. The email said ‘immediately’ and they are not kidding”. I pondered hanging out with the birds for a few more minutes but Inner Voice continued- “Look, suck it up. Make a decision”. Shame is a real thing. Doing nothing is cowardly. It will make whatever happens worse. I rose and went inside.

I woke up my laptop screen and the urgent message sprang to life. My finger was poised over the link. I stopped and decided on another path. I’ll call the doctor and find out if it’s a real message that’s safe to open. “Well … “, I argued with Inner Voice- “It’s better to be safe- and yes, I know, I may be running a little”.

I listened to my doctor’s office’s phone options. Unfortunately the options offered didn’t apply to my situation. I was waiting for “If you have received a terrifying message from your doctor please press 8”. But all I got were useless options: talk with the billing department; scheduling an annual physical; request a prescription refill; schedule a vaccination; or listen to short educational presentations about  a variety of health concerns such as hair loss, impotency, eyebrow lifts, and toenail fungus. I finally pressed 9 for a callback. After two hours and no return call I was running out of tea. I decided to drive to the doctor’s office. Little Voice yelled- “Stop running!”. I drowned him out with some jazz on the car radio,

Somehow all authority and adult thinking is sucked out of you when you enter the doctor’s office. Signs such as “Stand here”, “keep social distance”, ”no cell phones”, “if you are sick go outside and call us”- all put you in your place. The two receptionists were staring at their computer screens and barely noticed me. One pointed to a sign which read “Sit down and we will talk to you when we are free”. They were so intent on looking at their computer screens I wondered if they were watching pornography such as “Dr. Bill Makes a House Call”. Or perhaps they were just typing their Amazon Christmas list. 

Finally I was allowed to speak. After my allotted one minute presentation,  I was chastised for not waiting for my callback. Yes, I know there are many people in much greater need and that I selfishly suck up oxygen that could go to others who are more worthy. I left defeated. 

Back at home I switched to bourbon. Restored and fortified I conceded to Little Voice- “You win- I will look at the urgent message”. I reasoned if my identity was stolen it would actually be a good thing. I could use a new identity since the current one wasn’t working out that great anyway. After maybe 30 whole seconds the message finally emerged. It read- “Your blood tests have been evaluated. You are ridiculously healthy. Please don’t bother us at Happy Valley Medical Center”.  

I opened my contact list. I hit a couple of buttons and ordered a refill of my bourbon prescription. It will be delivered tomorrow since I successfully remembered my first dog’s middle name and the sum of my phone number times 4, minus one. I have a very secure account at Happy Valley Adult Beverage Center.