Be Mindful of Others
Daily
Observer
S.Q.
Lapius was shaken when he returned from the office. His hands trembled, and the glass clinked
against the bottle from which he poured himself a succoring libation.
“Simon,”
I asked, “you appear ill. What
happened?”
“Terrible, Harry. An enervating experience.
I don’t want to talk about it.”
His hands steadied as he sipped at the drink and soon a glow appeared in
his cheeks. “Mrs. Smith was in for her
allergy shot today.”
“She
comes in every week doesn’t she?”
“But
today she had a reaction. Her arms
swelled, she became asthmatic, --. “
“Come
on, Simon. You are an old
campaigner. You are not going to allow a
minor episode like that to throw you.
You’ve been through it so many times before.”
“I
had to keep her in the office for five hours, and watch her continuously until
the reaction abated, and I felt that it was safe for her to go home.”
Lapius
must have noted that I looked puzzled, and hastened to explain.
“Of
course it wasn’t the reaction, Harry.
Everything was under control.”
“Then
what, in heaven’s name, was it that has you so disturbed.”
“She
brought her children with her, ages 7 months to 7 years.”
“But
don’t they come with her every time?”
“Yes,
Harry. I have been very hospitable. But not for five hours.”
“They
are cute kids,” I observed.
“Adorable. In the first place they insist on occupying
five chairs in the waiting room, except for the seven month old, who is allowed
to crawl on the floor. My regular
patients have to stand. I tried to get
Mrs. Smith to get them to double on the chairs, but suddenly several were
missing and locked in the bathroom. ‘Why don’t you make them get out?’ I asked of
Mother Smith.”
“’I
can’t – I’m wheezing. I can hardly
breathe. You ask them.’”
“I
begged and cajoled, but they wouldn’t budge.
The toilet kept flushing. Someone
stepped on the baby, and he started screaming.
I had to ask a patient to leave the examining room to be sure the baby
didn’t have a broken Schweppes or something.
He seemed all right, but I couldn’t make him stop crying. ‘It’s not a he, it’s a she,’ Mrs. Smith kept gasping. ‘You have to make her respect you.’ I’m trying, I assured her.”
“Sounds
nerve-wracking,” I commiserated.
“Nerve-wracking?
Harry, it was disastrous.”
“Did
the kids come out of the bathroom?”
“Of
course they did. As
soon as someone had the brains to offer them lollipops, but not before I had
called the locksmith.”
“Well,
that should have ended the panic.”
“Yes,”
Lapius said. “It should have, but they
returned to their seats in the waiting room.”
“What
was wrong with that?”
“They
were soaking wet. But I didn’t learn
that till the next patient came in and sat in one of the chairs.”
“Simon,
I’m afraid that you communicated your natural aversion to children.”
“Not
until my nurse tried to take a cardiogram and found the paper crisscrossing the
room like confetti.”
“A
catastrophe,” I said, hiding a smile.
“That
wasn’t the catastrophe. The catastrophe
was when one of them spilled Merthiolate over the carpets.”
“But
you finally got control of the situation, as you usually do,” I said.
“Don’t
patronize me, Harry. But as a matter of
fact, yes. I took control and things
quieted down.”
“What
did you do?”
“It
was an idea I got from the old-time novels.
I bound their hands and tapped their mouths with adhesive tape.”
“LAPIUS, THAT IS CRUEL.”
I said with emphasis.
“Don’t
be silly, Harry. I applied tincture of
benzion first so the tape could be pulled off easily – but not, I warned Mrs.
Smith, before they left the office.”
“Then
I can assume that Mrs. Smith recovered and they all left quietly?”
“And
that ended the matter?”
“Except
for prying sticky lollipops off the rugs, walls, paintings, and upholstery, the
matter was ended.”
“Simon,
you triumphed again,” I said proudly.
“Not
quite. As she left the office Mrs. Smith told me that she had missed her last
period.”