Get On the Canna Bus

I don't think the nurse at my doctor's office likes me.

I went in today, and once I maneuvered into an examination room, she said, "I just need to get some basic information first."

"Fine," I said cordially.

"On the form you filled out, where it asks how much coffee you drink a day, you wrote down 'two.' Would that be two cups?" she asked.

"Two cups!" I laughed. "No. Two POTS."

"Oh," she said somewhat taken aback. "Well, how many cups are in each pot?"

"One," I said. "It's a very small pot."

She cleared her throat. "Under alcohol consumption you put 'one shot.' What did you mean by 'one shot'? One shot a day, a week?"

"One shot at a time," I replied helpfully.

"One shot at a time?" she repeated. "How many shots do you do?"

"I'm not sure," I answered as truthfully as possible, "I never learned to count over twenty-one."

"What?" the nurse exclaimed. "You can only count to twenty-one?"

I held up one hand. "Five," I said. I held up the other hand. "Ten," I indicated. I reached down as far as I could and removed a sock and shoe. "Fifteen," I said panting. I bent over one more time and tugged off the other footwear. "Twenty," I gasped. I leaned back in my wheelchair.

"But what about twenty-one?" she said. She saw my hands reach toward my lap. Her eyes got big, and she stammered out, "I'll take your word for it."

We quickly moved on. "Next to 'Do you smoke?' you wrote 'yes,' but next to 'How many packs a day?' you wrote 'none.'"

"That's correct," I said, glad we were finally on the same page.

"So do you smoke tobacco or don't you?" she asked with a hint of exasperation, although I could not fathom where her discomfort arose from.

"No!" I said emphatically. "Never took up the habit. Nasty stuff."

"What do you smoke?" she asked almost hesitantly.

"Cannabis," I cheerily told her.

"Wait a minute. You lied," she said as if she had me dead to rights. "You said right here that you don't use recreational drugs."

"That's right," I said. "I'm a qualifying patient for medical cannabis under the state's Compassionate Care Act."

"That'll be all," she said. She closed her laptop brusquely and stood to leave the room. "The doctor will be in to see you shortly."

I'm still waiting . . . .

Happy 4/20!