Monday, August 27, 2007

like sands through the hourglass are the days of our lives. And so go the cells of my brain.

Today I got dressed, then got #4 and 5 ready and out the door to the pediatrician's office. I was met with very little traffic, found the perfect parking spot, and got into the waiting room with ten minutes to spare. I did think it was odd that there were no other patients waiting, but then, it was 8:50 and their office opens at 9:00, so I mentally rationalized it.
When the receptionist came to the check-in window, she asked which doctor I was there to see. When I told her, she said, "She's not in this office today". (They have two office locations.)
"Oh, no, don't tell me I came to the wrong office."
"Well, let me just check. What is your son's name?" (looks something up on her computer) "Oh, yes, here it is. His appointment is Wednesday."

When I got home, I checked my calendar. Hrm, I had it written wrong. We'll just call this the "dry run". And like a cat who had an unplanned fall from the couch after a really good stretch, I will retreat to a corner of the room and lick my paws. And I'll try not to feel so stupid. Or old.


Leah said...

Hey, I've done that before, only I came a day late. I huffed and puffed when they told me because I was certain it was for the day I was there. They saw me anyway!

lizzerd said...

i've done it too. had the wrong week altogether. one of those times when you want to say, "just testing ya!" hahaha
where did all those brain cells go? are they yet another casualty of "global warming?" HAHHAHAHAA

Pat said...

I can correctly say I've got "chemo brain" as an after-effect of chemo, but opening my desk drawer at work and then staring at the drawer because I have no idea why I opened it is just too ego-destroying!