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Thursday, July 24, 2008. Went to the clinic to get prescriptions rewritten. There was a time when you could go every six months, get your bi-annual checkup and whatever blood tests the doctor wanted, get the Rx's rewritten and be done with it. Now they want you to come in every three months.
I drove the seven miles to the clinic noting that the mimosa are almost finished blooming, but crepe myrtles of all colors are in their heyday. Arrived at 10am. Outside it was like a sauna; hot and humid. Supposed to get up to 100 degrees this weekend with heat index in the triple digits. It was good and cold in the clinic--I enjoyed that while waiting.
When I went in, there was an enormously obese black man in a wheelchair at the receptionist's desk. They couldn't maneuver the man into an exam room, so the doctor had checked him out where he sat and found his blood sugar dangerously high. She had called an ambulance to transport the man to Forrest General Hospital 40 miles away.
The man was protesting "Doc there's a fambly reunion this weekend and I don't wanna miss that. They's gonna be some good food there!" Everyone groaned. The doctor said she could not let him leave with his blood sugar that high. The ambulance crew arrived and the entire staff of the clinic, plus numerous family members helped get the man onto the stretcher. There were some real groans then as everyone lifted and pulled.
I just heard on the news that Mississippi-- again-- has the dubious name of being the fattest state in the nation. Yep, we really are. Susil
It's a shame to attempt to choose "good food" over life 
