PlazaJen: Passion Knit

My doctor's office had apparently not updated much of my records over the past few years - they had my old employer & phone number, and so I was leaning over the counter talking to the front desk lady (who's been there forever, too, and knows me by name), answering questions as she went through her screen. It all seemed kind of funny, like all these things from three years ago - or ten - that I hadn't thought about in so long. Then, "Emergency contact still Rick?" as she looked up at me from her keyboard, and I found myself gaping like a fish suddenly removed from its aqueous environment. Uh, Rick? That's my dad. He'd always been my emergency contact, my whole life, until I married James, and even then, we've always joked that he'd totally be pulling the plug on me within five minutes. (I still trust him with my life, but I have stressed the need to MAKE SURE heroic measures had at least been attempted first!) In any event, my mind raced because part of me didn't want to change it, to cling to another corner of my life somehow untouched or sullied by his death, but then the practical side of me woke up and stepped in and had her change it to James. But I'm putting it in writing right here, right now, that there is no plug-pulling unless a team of doctors give me no chance at all. (And I'm also going to point out I've had this running joke long before Will Ferrell did it in Talladega Nights!)

Labels: the next year