I had a weird growth on my back so I went to see the dermatologist. He took one look at my face and said he needed to take a sample of a spot to send to a lab for analysis. He gave me fluorouracil, which kills cells that have a tendency to turn cancerous. I used it for weeks and things went well, but a weird looking spot developed on the side of my head. I wanted him to take a look at it. Lynn had an appointment with him today and we had the idea that I could tag long and ask him to glance at me to see if I needed an appointment.
I thought I might get refused entry. I didn't have an appointment of my own. I thought billing and procedure might dictate an official appointment for any entry. I was appreciative of the polite acceptance by the door symptoms checker and the department secretary, the nurse, and the doctor. He glanced and said I was ok and didn't need an appointment.
My book club selected a book that is about slavery and contains instances of magic realism. I have read enough about slavery (and about WWII) and I wasn't interested. Sometimes, I can lend a certain presence to the meetings and I may be able to make a helpful comment. So, I met online later today. Mostly, I kept my mouth shut but I did contribute a few comments. I thought I might be asked if I had read the book but I never was.
I am biased toward negativity. I can remember mishaps and slights more easily than kindly acceptance. So, I am recording both instances of quiet tolerance so that I have a record of them.
