The other day my sister Marcia fell down and sprained her ankle.

She was at the doctor today having her eyeball fixed (removal of band aid after cataract surgery) and the nurse looked at her ankle which was still bruised and said “I’d have your doctor look at that”

She repeated this to me and said “That is so stupid. What’s he gonna say? You sprained your ankle?”

We hung up and I mulled this over for awhile.

If that same thing had happened to me I would have lain awake for a few nights tossing and turning and screaming into my pillow so as to not wake Debby.

Finally I would call my friend Susan to tell her I have foot cancer.

Susan would sympathize with me and tell me she’s sure that I don’t have it (even though she would be sure I do) and give me several suggestions of what it could be, a tick bite or something.

Then we’d swap symptoms of reasons why we both have one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.

Of course I wouldn’t go to the doctor because I hate bad news and even if I did go to the doctor I would lie.

If he was any kind of doctor I wouldn’t have to give him a bunch of clues for him to make a diagnosis.

Don’t ask what would happen if I had a headache.

Maybe this will calm me down.