I had to wait until the next day to get my results. I asked Pastor Volodya to go with me to the next appointment. His vocabulary is a bit larger than mine between our two languages - but he wouldn't be my interpreter - just another friend.
We were given the MRI scans in a large brown envelope and sent upstairs to the doctors office. We were early, so I pulled out my scans.
It was like a branch of broccoli sticking out between two teeth. Tiny, yet completely undeniable in every way - with no medical training I could see the herniated disc popping out. This was not good.
When the doctor pulled out the scan, I just watched his eyes. They winced when they came to the slide I had noticed. He tried to play it cool, but I knew it was bad. He drew a picture of the scoliosis in my spine, and explained that the combination of my crooked spine and my incredible weight problem had caused this.
Valodya believes innately that all Christians should have rockin'-bods. He doesn't believe that a Christian should be on the heavy side, and he always shares a look of disgust when I eat anything sweet or anything at all really. As soon as the doctor began discussing a diet plan, I immediately regretted bringing Valodya. I wished that Den or Olya had been with me - they at least could have playfully teased rather than judgmentally reproved.
I knew my life would be a living hell after this. Long after the pain in my back had faded, Volodya would be pressing and pushing me about my girth. What upsets me most, is that I am not even large by American standards. Compared to most of Minnesota I'm trim and petite.
As we left, Valodya said, "Do you think that Doctor is a Jew?" I wish that the written word could fully capture the intonation of disgust registering in his voice, - that you could draw a crooked nose above words to symbolize a genocidal tone - but, sadly - that's all up to your imagination. I weakly responded, "Yes, I think so." And he volleyed, "Good. That's very good ... Let's go for a run."
No comments:
Post a Comment