I’d Get That Removed Too

Claude had a bad gall bladder. Doctors had advised her to get it removed for years. She would have an attack. It would pass after a few days and she would forget about it.

Until the next time it flared up.

This time, it wouldn’t pass. The doctor at Jackson Hospital said, “You can’t put this off any longer, Mrs. Flinn. You have to let me do surgery!”

At almost 90 years old, she laid in the bed and said, “It’s going to pass. I’ll be ok. Just give me some more of that good pain medicine!”

The pain medicine worked. But it also worked a bit like a truth serum. Not that my Great Grandmother didn’t already say pretty much whatever came to her mind.

“I’m going to send a lady by to visit with you. She is still here at the hospital, recovering from the gall bladder surgery I performed on her," said the doctor. "She can give you some words of encouragement to help you make your decision.”

A sweet little lady was rolled into the room in her wheelchair.

Now I don’t want to talk about anyone, but this lady had a mole.

A really large mole.

Smack dab in the middle of her chin.

And it was quite hairy.

As we gathered around Claude’s bed and listened to this sweet lady share her experience, I could see Claude staring at this lady’s chin.

Really staring.

As this lady finished her story, and gave words of encouragement, Claude raised her head from her pillow and in her drug induced state said, “Thank you ma’am! I appreciate all the kind words. If I had a mole that looked like that, I believe I’d let the doctor remove it too!”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, along with awkward clearing of throats.

“And you see that woman sitting over there in the corner?” Claude said as she pointed to one of her dear friends. “She thinks she knows everything!”

“This sure is some good pain medicine!” she said as her head fell back to her pillow.

So Claude did have the surgery. Cholecystectomy, not molectomy.

She recovered and continued to say whatever came to her mind.

From the mind of me.