I’m currently sat with two family members in situ of a Radiology department waiting room. Treatment requirements presently dictate that our residence in this area of the oncology unit are frequent of late.
I pass my time jotting down notes for a future narrative to incorporate as content to my website writesaidfred.org . As I write, the patient (who I shall call Bob), sits with head tilted back allowing him bi-focal reading access to the balanced editorial musings of a ‘right of middle’ newspaper.
Adjacent him the other family member (pseudonym Mavis) is unimpressed by his paper of choice, although that doesn’t deter her from stealing glimpses of the tabloid’s content over her unwell spouse’s shoulder. On viewing these snippets, she occasionally breaks the silence with disparaging remarks about the journalistic integrity of the newspaper he picked up.
Surveying this scene of waiting room behaviour manifested a inner chuckle in yours truly. Particularly at the whole thing being played out with the undemonstrative patient blanking partner’s barbed diatribes about his reading selection.
With her tongue in cheek comments designed to ‘press his buttons’ failing to achieve their objective , she stops the over the shoulder reading and offers me a Greggs sausage roll to quell my lunchtime hunger pangs.
Well Mavis may have had no luck getting Bob to bite by ‘dissing’ his newspaper choice, however the offer of the sausage roll (which was his) certainly got a reaction.
“I thought that was for me!” ranted the patient on hearing his lunch may reside in my stomach in the not too distant future.
After making a mental note of the success of that ‘winding up’ approach for future, Mavis pointing out to Bob that he said he hadn’t wanted it.
“I don’t yet! But I will when I’ve had my treatment!…… Oh, and I’m not called Bob, Mavis!” the now rattled patient tersely told his other half.
“Actually, you’re not called Mavis, either!” Bob continued forcefully.
“I know I’m not, but our Gary doesn’t want to use our real names to maintain our anonymity, Bob!” explained his wife, trying to calm the situation.
“I realise that! But he means in those bloody stupid blogs he writes!… He’s not advocating we permanently use a pseudonyms!……. Bloody hell, Marg!….. I mean Mavis!” Bob retorted in despair at his spouse’s interpretation of matters.
Sensing I wasn’t welcome to eat Bob’s sausage roll, I told Mavis that I didn’t want it and calm was restored between myself and the aging love birds.
I have to say that it was a relief to go back to a period of quiet, along with no longer attracting looks of disapproval from fellow patients and their family.
It wasn’t long though before the silence was once again broken when Bob turned to his significant other to rant:-
“Oh, and by the way, Mavis….. Can you do me a favour and stop bloody reading the paper over my shoulder from now on!……. It’s really starting to do my bleeding head in!”