Crow's-Feet Chronicles: A stream of consciousness
By Cindy Baker Burnett
Jan 28, 2019
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How rude of a doctor not to have reading material in his examining room. Oh sure, sometimes the wait is a nanosecond. On other occasions, however, it’s long enough for me to count the fillings in my teeth with my tongue, push all ten cuticles back, and rotate both feet until my ankles pop. I guess urology is not worth a read. 

There I sat yesterday, trying to relax and read the posters, equipment notices, and wall plaques. Because of my aging eyes, I could decipher nothing but large print titles. The ones that stick in my mind are “Urinary Tract,” “Powdered Exam Gloves,” “Reminder of Office Payment Policies,” and “Stirrup Positioning.” 

The poster titled “Urinary Tract” was a colored drawing with what looked like the cross section of a woman’s urinary parts on the left side and a man’s parts on the right. I could read no words other than the title---“Urinary Tract.” There they were---the side views of under-the-bridge graffiti. Even with squinting, all the diagrams looked like cartoon characters. The “lady” on the left looked like Dick Tracy’s cartoon character known as No Face, while the “gentleman” on the right was the side view of Grandpa Munster. 

It was a myriad of glands, vessels, and, well, tracts. Of interest to me were the shapes of the buttocks of the two “people.” Hers seemed fuller, understandably, but I appreciated the age-appropriate drop in position. “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” danced in my head. The poor guy’s rump was straight up and down. Maybe “she” chewed on it until it fell to the floor. 

Since I couldn’t read the small print, I had no idea what the colorful pictures were on the “she” side of the poster. But I felt like I was in the Pioneer Woman’s kitchen after Ree Drummond sliced a red bell pepper in half and positioned the cross section in front of the camera. The same thing with a pomegranate. 

The “he” side? Well, as strange as it may sound, I felt I was looking at cashews with caps…only because I have seen cashews growing in Belize. I know, I know---that sounds bizarre. But it’s no weirder than the tail of a tornado spilling from a Rice Krispies treat and touching down somewhere on the plains of Kansas. 

The drawing down the middle of the poster was, I assumed, an overlay of both tracts---one in blue and the other in red. Rather than calling them Democrats and Republicans, I choose to assume the red is for the woman and the blue for the man. How they looped in, around and through each other in a “Dancing with the Stars” twirl around the poster was a mesmerizing moment for me. Initially, I wanted to send them a Hallmark card. Instead, I whispered to myself: 

“Get a room.”