Preparing is important. I had been told to prepare for the future. Other than preparing for my everlasting soul I thought of other things too. I had consulted a financial advisor several years back and he devised a savings plan and all. Other plans? After last winter’s exhibition of cold and bad weather I have prepared better this year. I went out one day last week and “mowed” my leaves. It seemed easier than trying to rake them. So, it was — and I did. Another job was shutting the vents under this 92-year-old historical landmark I call my house. This, I speculate will keep my pipes from freezing up.

Now I am preparing again, to go to the VA up in OKC to see my pretty little woman doctor up there. I hope I do better than the first time I was summoned up there by her. That was back in July of 2020. I had never met her, and I was pretty sure she was anxious to meet me too. That week I was about to bump up another year to #86. Didn’t bother me since I had read about one of my ancient cousins who lived to be 126. My mom had only made it to 98 but she never took good care of herself. So, I had decided (due to the many advances in modern medicine) to strive to make 106. Nothing to it so I thought.

But, back to my new doctor. I felt good the morning Pat and I got up to go up there. It was July of 2020. Again, being the planning sort, I wanted to make sure we were well prepared for our long trip. My daughter Lesli thinks we should be driven up there. “You’re both up in your 80s,” she said. But I am nothing if not careful. So, the morning of the big event I start backing out our car and I notice the weather is very warm. I ask her, “did you get us some cold water to drink today?” Of course, with her being in her 80s too, she hadn’t thought to. I hopped out and got four bottles of cold water. “Are we shopping any today?” She admitted she was, and I asked if she was buying anything that might spoil. Again, she said yes.

So I again placed my car back to “P”, got out and set a little Styrofoam box in the back. And believe it or not, at long last, I headed the car out of town. I told her, “Look we got to roll now. I didn’t want to be late on this my first appointment with her.” I was picturing my young new doctor as being sort of a cross between a young Ann Margaret or Marilyn Monroe. I set my cruise on 67 and soon was hurtling like a bullet toward Atwood. Three or four minutes I heard those dreaded words. “I can’t find my phone.” The car was taken off cruise and I coasted to the shoulder. I turned around but when I reached County Line Road I stopped again.

Let me call it, I said rather belatedly. As I dialed her number, I hoped that Lesli never hears of this and for sure I reminded Pat that this was just our little secret as visions of me being dragged off to some nursing home flitted through my somewhat senile brain. I heard her phone but after a few more minutes of search couldn’t find it. Finally, with little images of my flitting by my new doctor flitting back through my brain again, I got out and stood up. There it was. Her phone was in my pocket.

I bounded back into the car. Time was ticking away and this time I heard Pat say, “slow down, you trying to kill us?” I dropped it back to 70 mph wondering If my goal of living to 106 hadn’t been a little too optimistic. We were zooming across Lake Holdenville Dam when I heard my phone. I pulled over and said, “Hello.” It was a male voice that asked me who I was and then informed me my appointment had been cancelled. Marilyn Monroe, uh I mean my doctor, was sick and couldn’t come in today. He would mail me a new date later on. I did a turnaround as I explained all this to my astounded looking wife and headed back in the July heat to Allen, America. Our phones, both secure.

Whatever time we have left, be sure and leave time to go to church Sunday.

Wayne Bullard, DPh cwaynebullard@gmail.com