Call Me Mandy.


Our grandmother is in her mid nineties and like most seniors her life revolves around driving her own children slowly insane, doting on her adoring grand kids and great grand kids, and in her free time constantly visiting doctors. I think when you crack into your 90’s you become like a classic sports car, lots of time with the mechanics. You also get a little set in your ways and like to see the same doctors when you visit because they know all your trick parts and where the leaks are.

So one day our aunt, who lives with Grandma, took her to see her usual mechanic…err, eye doctor. They get there and park and shuffle inside…so far just another boring visit to the ophthalmologist.

After the usual wait and perusal of free magazines, Grams and Aunt J go on into the exam room. They are met by a tall woman with big hair – like, Southern big – and, according to our grandmother some seriously amazing tangerine colored pumps and matching lipstick. Grams assumes that her normal doctor Dr. Edward Chow, is not in. He’d been hard to get appointments with lately.

So the lady doctor gives grandma her regular eye exam, and it is oddly familiar. From technique to general banter, it seems as though Grams has met this tangerine lady before. But she’s been going to Dr. Chow for years…

Finally grandma, after spending a lot of time staring into the doctor’s eyes, and admiring the shoe and lipstick combo, something clicked. That, or she read the name tag.

“Dr Chow?????” Grandma exclaimed. She was finally realizing why Dr Chow had been hard to book lately, something Auntie J had been aware of for quite some time. Like…months. Dr Chow had been undergoing a complicated and extended process.

“Call me Mandy,” she laughed. “Now when I do this, is it better or worse?” She resumed examining Grandma’s eyes. Grandma sat there a little stunned for a few seconds. Then she spoke.

“I’ve got one question,” Grams asked.

Mandy sighed. “Sure.” I’m sure she was expecting some of the usual questions she was probably sick of. Or worse a dose of intolerance or revulsion.

“I know you’re pretty new to being a lady… But honestly, where the heck are you going to find a bag to match those shoes?” Grams asked.



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