Image: Doobster @ Mindful Digressions
This week’s prompt: one or all: pat/pet/pit/pot/put
‘Good,’ said my doctor ‘I’ve put plenty of anaesthetic into your armpit to keep it quiet for some time. With potluck we’ll get all the nasties out and you’ll be a new man.’
As he patted and poked my arm I looked at the light above me and thought what a crock of shit life was that I had inherited genes from my parents that contained so many things designed to make life difficult for me.
He asked me if I had any pets and then began the long discussion of the virtues of the dogs we both had. It was a worthwhile conversation as it took my mind off his digging and scraping my armpit and side removing the growths that had appeared and to me were somewhat unsightly.
I just hoped he kept his mind on the job and wasn’t put off by my gripe of having to pick up dog poo every day.
‘It’s what they do,’ he said, stitching up my side, dabbing away the blood which he said was oozing out of me.
In the pit of my stomach I felt a nagging doubt that there was more to this than first met the eye.
Pathology was being taken and in a few days he’d know the results. There was no place for pity I reasoned, be tall and accept what came back, life would go on no matter what.
I thought it probably a good time now to start to put back into the community some of what I had taken from it over the years.
My Aunty Pat, and her pet cattle dog Lucky, spent so much of her time stirring the pot of dissent putting us all offside with her when in fact she lived in a pit of despair.
I decided to start with her and right a few wrongs like changing my attitude of wanting to throw her into the towns tar pit. Rather it was time to pat her on the head and tell her I held no grudges, put our sordid past behind us and return grandma’s chamber pot, which had sat under my bed all these years.
As the doctor tied off my last stitch I felt this new resolution take hold of me and put me in a more positive frame of mind than when I entered the surgery.