On the Sixth Day of Christmas...

... my doctor gave to me...

Let's hear it for our health care professionals, shall we? It was just this time last year that I was reminded of what wonderful people they are as I sat in the emergency room of the local hospital on Christmas Day, because my back had gone out and I could neither sit nor stand. I was grateful for all the people who were working to ease the pain and problems of those of us who are older now... as my younger brother enjoyed reminding me...

I had every intention of treating my ER visit as if I were going to a walk-in clinic. That was not to be. Apparently the ER is attached to a bona fide hospital, which meant that I had to get a wristband and wear one of those oh-so-lovely hospital gowns they give you.

"Really?" I told Nurse Ratchett. "I only need to be here long enough to get a prescription for relief."

"Yes. Really." End of discussion.

After peeing in a cup (what is it about me that I have done that more in a 12-month period of time than I have done in the last twelve years combined?) I struggled back into regular clothing and waited for my prescription. I left $100 at the door and ho-ho-ho'ed my way to the only pharmacy open that day, where I left more good monetary cheer on the counter and trekked home to the warmth and comfort of my bed.

I had no intention of repeating this episode this year. And... while I am giving thanks... I am thankful that I do not have any back problems to currently moan and complain about.

But assuming that the 12 Days of Christmas is a countdown to Christmas Day... today would be approximately the Sixth Day (depending on your location in the universe) and instead of having six geese a-laying (arguably a messy problem) I have a conglomerate of sinus/respiratory issues. And so, I have continued my Christmas tradition of monetarily supporting my local health care provider (namely Dr. Brad Rudge) and whisked myself to his office this morning spouting the following phrase:

"Fix me, Dr. Brad... I'm broke!"

I typically tell this to Dr. Brad and he typically laughs at me, and then he typically gives me a prescription, and I typically get better. This year's mantra was followed quickly by, "I don't want to be sick for Christmas".

Dr. Brad laughed at me. Laughed. At Me. Told me he's hearing that from a lot of patients. And then he laughed again. At me.

Hateful.

No, actually, Dr. Brad isn't hateful at all. Dr. Brad is a wonderful, caring, Christian physician that I am fortunate to call my friend as well as my doctor. He and his wonderful family served with me for a number of years in a completely giving fashion during all the productions I worked while on staff at Two Rivers Baptist Church. Dr. Brad has even seen a couple of family members and a friend or two, whom I have thrown his way.

I recently asked Dr. Brad if I could get a discount on my visits to him since I send him so much good business. He laughed at me again. When he finished laughing, he just kept smiling, and said no.

Hateful.

So, apparently on the Sixth Day of Christmas, I got four prescriptions and a Merry Christmas from my physician.

I consider it money well spent.