“Yeah”, Miss Cathy said, agreeing with me as if I’d been serious when I’d said, “From your lips to God’s ear”, this in response to her saying that “I could die before her”.
”Nobody’s time is guaranteed in this life you know.”
She continued as if we were really having a conversation about mortality instead of verbally sparring with each other.
The fact that I’d just ‘wished’ an early death on myself to get away from her completely going over her head.
“You don’t have to be a certain age to die.” She said, quite please with herself, looking to the doctor for a visual ‘high five’ as if she’d just ‘nailed it’ with her observation.
Dr G was sitting between the two of us, poor man (Switzerland between France and Germany) awkwardly trying to find some neutral place to gaze upon.
“Oh my God!”, was all I could think. “Shoot me, shoot me now!”
“Mother” I interrupted her before she could continue gloating about the possibility of my early demise.
“I was being facetious.”
“You know what” Dr G said, having found a safe spot near the door to focus on, “I’m not getting in the middle of this one.”
Miss Cathy shrugged and changed the subject.
“How is my cholesterol count?” She queried, showing no signs that she’d forgotten the other subject at hand, which was whether or not to add a statin to her daily medications (which total 12 pills at last count…..8 in the morning and 4 at night).
“All medications have side effects you know.”
Dr G opened up what is turning into a volume of notes worthy of a JK Rowling’s novel and after a careful review said, “Last time we checked it wasn’t that bad at 218, which isn’t too bad, but the LDL was 107 which is spectacularly good…so on second thought I’m going to say ‘No’ to the Lipitor.”
“Her protected cholesterol is really so good that I don’t want to do it.” He said to me.
“Yes”, Miss Cathy said, as if she was being vindicated that she was right all along (when actually she wasn’t right so much as just argumentative and stubborn).