Poodle Springs*

“So, how are you?” The lovely young doctor says, pen poised over my notes.  He’s the same one who I saw last month: tall with blue eyes and brown hair.

“Well my mood has dropped,” I say, “so I’ve put my antidepressant dose up.  So I need some more of those, if that’s OK please?  I always put the dose up when my mood goes down.  I’m seeing my psychiatrist on Saturday.”

“I’ll write you a prescription for some more of them then,” he says, printing one off.

“Thank you very much.  Oh, here’s the Zolodex,” I say, handing him a box.

“Very good,” he says.

Climbing onto the bed, I lift my dress up.  

“First injection coming now.  It’s just a sharp scratch,” he says.  “This is the local anaesthetic.  We’ll just wait a minute for that to kick in.  Have you thought about having the Zolodex every three months rather than every month?”

“I think my oncologist wants to see how well I can tolerate it first,” I say.  “Aren’t there more risks, I mean is it a stronger dose or…”

“And how well can you tolerate it?”  He says.

“Well the side effects are terrible but I don’t really have a choice,” I say.

“All done,” he says.

“Wow, I didn’t feel anything,” I say.  Didn’t even notice him sticking the huge needle in.

“Good,” he says, smiling, putting a plaster over the hole.  “Well if you can tolerate the monthly injections it’s worth thinking about the three monthly one.  You’d have to have this annoyance less often.  Ask your oncologist.”

“OK,” I say.  “Thank you.”

Walking home with the panther, am having a little cry.  He stalks down the road ahead of me.  Suddenly, a familiar silver shape approaches, prancing towards us.  It’s a Standard Poodle friend of mine.  Have known him since he was a puppy.

“Hello darling,” I say.  “How are you?”

“He’s fine,” his owner says.  “How are you?”

My panther sidles off into the undergrowth: the poodle is a big fellow.

“I’m OK,” I say.  “Is nice to see both of you.”

The poodle puts his front paws on my shoulders and gives me a cuddle.  His fur is so soft.

“What a lovely cuddle,” I say, “thank you.”

And for a few minutes I feel better.

Attached photo is a Royal Aircraft Factory R.E.8 plane from the museum yesterday.

Happy Thursday everyone!
*1989.  Philip Marlowe novel by Raymond Chandler.  Left unfinished on his death in 1959.  Completed in 1988 by Robert E. Parker.

Advertisement