Friday, November 20, 2009

For the birds...

She lumbered large to the exam room each visit, clutching penciled notes scrawled on tiny pages. I sighed to see her on the schedule, wondering anew if fibromyalgia really exists.

“So,” I said interrupting her litany, “Anything new in your life?”

“Why yes,” she said, “My cockatiel’s eggs have hatched, four babies!”

Our heads touched over pictures.

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