After the Fact: The eye of the beholder


It happens, and it was probably my own fault that Dr. Grigsby’s office couldn’t get ahold of me to tell me he’d been unexpectedly called out of town but I could have SWORN I gave them my new phone number. And we all know how infallible my memory has become over the years. Nevertheless, I’m going to borrow the shirt Chris was wearing when I go for my re-scheduled appointment. It reads, “Sorry I’m late, but I really didn’t want to come.” It’s not that I don’t like my cardiologist but he seldom agrees with my self-diagnosis and unfailingly tells me I should have blood tests done. I assume these are for future reference because if there’s anything wrong, I don’t want to hear about it and I won’t be back for at least six months. Or maybe next year.

This time, I was ahead in the game because I’d already scheduled the blood tests.  Now, some who draw blood are pretty good; some are not, but Diane is the best in the business, so I’d walk barefoot through 6’ of snow to get to the Valley Wide clinic in Monte Vista to see her for lab work. I’m not a particularly difficult subject, but Chris is, and even she says Diane is as close to painless as anyone she’s had poke around through her tangle and wobble of veins.

I remember being whizzingly impressed when Roger Vigil gave Judy Crisco and me the grand tour of the new dialysis unit at the hospital. In what seems like a very short time, they’ve opened, first, the Stephanie Miner Center (thanks in no small part to great efforts by the Motz family) and now we have a full-service cancer center. No more driving over mountain passes to get treatment. We have, indeed, cutting edge medical care here in the Valley and doctors who’ll actually stay longer than the payments for their student loans.

Have you noticed that more and more of the doctors around here are barely out of their twenties? And lawyers are passing the bar exams before they can get a driver’s license? It’s highly disconcerting to pass by a courtroom and see some young woman barely old enough for high school graduation, like Pattie Swift or Kim Wood, playing “dress-up” in the judicial black robes. And I won’t even regale you with the age of our state and local law enforcement folks except to say they’d better not have real bullets in those guns!

While I don’t want some doddering old fool running things, or running for public office, for that matter, I went to college with Carlos Lucero and consider him barely seasoned enough to be a judge, let alone old enough for retirement. I did get an e-mail from my former ASC roommate, Shari Montgomery (Steiner) reminding me that she’d be here this summer to attend the 60th reunions of her high school classes at both Sargent and Monte Vista High Schools (over Stampede weekend). Time flies when you’re having fun. It really flies when you’re trying to put off going to the next appointment with your cardiologist.

Some things I will attend to in a timely fashion; others bring new meaning to the word, “procrastination.” It’s a great word, incidentally, and sounds much better than saying, “I just didn’t feel like doing it.” Even though it means exactly the same thing. Maybe Chris could find a shirt that says, “Sorry I’m late, but I was busy procrastinating.” It’d make a great birthday present when or if I get around to having another of those. I may be too busy.

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