Neve and I are at the grocery store this afternoon and bam!- standing in front of floor-to-ceiling boxes of pasta is the OB/GYN who birthed both my children. I haven't seen him in 5 years at least. He is dressed in a suit, his hair is still slicked back, and he is inspecting that box of pasta with the same serious furrowed brow I remember from more personal inspections years ago. In fact, that's the only part of him I remember, as I recall that being the only part of him I could see during delivery >>> my belly, my knees, the end of the bed, Dr. Sillvan's forehead and brow, baby. In that order.
Me, approaching him: "Look Neve, here's the doctor who brought you into the world!"
Dr. Sillvan: "Hello." (courtesy smile and then back to box)
I realize that my brief introduction was pointless anyway, as Neve is inspecting a bag of chips 10 feet behind me.
The aisle seemed to have quickly and temporarily filled with other shoppers and their carts, and I am wedged between a basket of coconut water and Dr. Sillvan. It's only a bit more awkward than before (you know, that time, 2 seconds earlier, when he courtesy-smiled at me when I introduced him to a human being he pulled into existence?), but nothing I can't handle. I'm hopeful that the old woman to my right will expedite her decision between the two boxed soups she's holding and allow me to escape from the mild to moderate discomfort of this whole scenario.
I should've known better... what doctor wants to make small talk at a grocery store with every yahoo they've given a pelvic exam? Statistically speaking, we're less than a mile away from the hospital and his practice, so he could've easily pulled more babies from other ladies who are standing in that very grocery store for all I know. You don't see all those ladies talking to him. Further more, if he was a plastic surgeon, would I have stopped and reintroduced him to my fake boobs? I don't know. Maybe.
Neve is now squeezing through the carts to catch up to me who is still at a stand-still somewhere between pasta, coconut water, and brow.
She reaches my cart and says (loud enough for all to hear), "What did you say, mom? Who? What doctor?"
I'm now forced to revisit the world's most uncomfortable introduction once more. He looked up from his box and then down to her.
Me: "Neve... this, this is the doctor that delivered you... who, you know, the one at the hospital... when you were born..."
Neve: "Oh."
Dr. Sillvan, expressionless: "Hi. You don't remember me, do you?"
Neve: (shaking her head no) "Mom? Can we buy these chips?"
Me: "No. Put them back." I try backing my cart up, but I am still very much cornered. I look at him again, and then he looks up at me.
Dr. Sillvan: "Do you want to get by?"
Me: "Um, yes, if you don't mind. I just have to... wait... okay, here she comes."
Dr. Sillvan turns his body to the side and courtesy-smiled us past him.
Because I have some sort of non-filtration issue with my mouth (a non medical diagnosis), I can't not say something to him. Why must I say something again?
Me, in an almost whisper: "Have a great day. And thank you."
Thank you? Thank YOU? For what? For the baby part or letting me pass you on the pasta aisle part? Shut UP, Dera. He doesn't care about you... he doesn't even remember you. Let this be a lesson, Stupid. Don't thank people all breezy-like for delivering your children. You don't matter. Let him alone with his stupid pasta.
Just as I'm about to round the aisle corner, Dr. Sillvan says, "Tell Fiona I said hello."
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Me, approaching him: "Look Neve, here's the doctor who brought you into the world!"
Dr. Sillvan: "Hello." (courtesy smile and then back to box)
I realize that my brief introduction was pointless anyway, as Neve is inspecting a bag of chips 10 feet behind me.
The aisle seemed to have quickly and temporarily filled with other shoppers and their carts, and I am wedged between a basket of coconut water and Dr. Sillvan. It's only a bit more awkward than before (you know, that time, 2 seconds earlier, when he courtesy-smiled at me when I introduced him to a human being he pulled into existence?), but nothing I can't handle. I'm hopeful that the old woman to my right will expedite her decision between the two boxed soups she's holding and allow me to escape from the mild to moderate discomfort of this whole scenario.
I should've known better... what doctor wants to make small talk at a grocery store with every yahoo they've given a pelvic exam? Statistically speaking, we're less than a mile away from the hospital and his practice, so he could've easily pulled more babies from other ladies who are standing in that very grocery store for all I know. You don't see all those ladies talking to him. Further more, if he was a plastic surgeon, would I have stopped and reintroduced him to my fake boobs? I don't know. Maybe.
Neve is now squeezing through the carts to catch up to me who is still at a stand-still somewhere between pasta, coconut water, and brow.
She reaches my cart and says (loud enough for all to hear), "What did you say, mom? Who? What doctor?"
I'm now forced to revisit the world's most uncomfortable introduction once more. He looked up from his box and then down to her.
Me: "Neve... this, this is the doctor that delivered you... who, you know, the one at the hospital... when you were born..."
Neve: "Oh."
Dr. Sillvan, expressionless: "Hi. You don't remember me, do you?"
Neve: (shaking her head no) "Mom? Can we buy these chips?"
Me: "No. Put them back." I try backing my cart up, but I am still very much cornered. I look at him again, and then he looks up at me.
Dr. Sillvan: "Do you want to get by?"
Me: "Um, yes, if you don't mind. I just have to... wait... okay, here she comes."
Dr. Sillvan turns his body to the side and courtesy-smiled us past him.
Because I have some sort of non-filtration issue with my mouth (a non medical diagnosis), I can't not say something to him. Why must I say something again?
Me, in an almost whisper: "Have a great day. And thank you."
Thank you? Thank YOU? For what? For the baby part or letting me pass you on the pasta aisle part? Shut UP, Dera. He doesn't care about you... he doesn't even remember you. Let this be a lesson, Stupid. Don't thank people all breezy-like for delivering your children. You don't matter. Let him alone with his stupid pasta.
Just as I'm about to round the aisle corner, Dr. Sillvan says, "Tell Fiona I said hello."
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9 comments:
I did LOL at this one Dera! Actually most docs do like to be thanked, even in the supermarket. They don't get thanked enough. He probably was tired but also loves to see the babies he delivers, and that you remembered him. :-)
ML
your words had me backed into that corner right there with you. hilariously awkward. thank you for sharing.
your comic timing with the placement of that last line is too perfect! ha!
--pippascabinet.blogspot.com
You have a gift for capturing the beauty and humor in life! I love the picture that follows your story.
Just when I become amazed again by your photography I read one of your blogs and remember what a gifted writer you are. It's always been your humor that beguiles, but in this last post- Pasta and a Pelvic, you used one of the most forceful tools any writer can use. You summed up the whole idea in that last little quote by the doctor showing that he remembered. What a punctuation!
dad
love.
(I love your Dad's love note even more though...)
I love you.
oh honey! this is awesome! i am cringing and laughing at the same time xx
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