Date: July 3, 2007
Location: Clitoria’s Trattoria
I should have known something was up when I called my doctor for my X-Ray results and he told me that he’d like to take me to lunch.
Still, I showed up at the restaurant early and Dr. Reddy was already there. He spat out his white wine spritzer when he saw me, his face a colorless pall. “We need to talk,” he said as I sat down, “this is serious.” I ordered the ‘Tato Skins to start.
“You have soul cancer. Stage 7. The fact that every molecule in your body has not already imploded in on itself is a mystery of modern science. You only have hours to live- at most.”
The ‘Tato Skins were too salty but I hate complaining to the waitress.
“There is no surgery that can cure you, no treatment to delay the inevitable, there is no answer but for you to make peace, immediate, with everyone you know and love.”
I should have ordered the waffle fries.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this. Please accept my condolences. I’m billing this as an office visit.”
I love Dr. Reddy but sometimes he can be overly dramatic. He’ll exaggerate to make a point, but really I think
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