Flash Fiction III

Hospital Appointment by Sandra Reynolds

'Look, I never said I didnt like her. She's my sister and if she wants to cometo the hospital that's fine by me. It's just ......well take this cotton waffle bathrobe. Can't deny it's nice. Tasteful,appropriate. BUT THERE'S ABSOLUTELEY NOTHING WHATSOEVER WRONG WITH MY ORANGE PAISLEY CAFTAN. Been everywhere with me, that has. Work of art, that caftan.

(And while I'm on the subject, my purple velvet cape - who (else) could complain about that? Listen, I've had strangers stop over that!)
So there we are then, me, Sarah and the bathrobe are going to the hospital together. Why? you ask. Just in case. Because you never know. In case of what? Never know what? RIGHT. DO NOT TELL ME.

So it's no big deal this appointment. But she will delve. I've heard her delve. "Train,did you, Doctor, over there in Beirut/Baghdad/Burundi? Good facilities, are there, Doctor? Over there, like?"

And we haven't even got to my problem. "Genetic, do you think, Doctor? Be tested, should I? Oh I see. Caught it somewhere? Or from someone? OOOOH I see."

As though I'm not squirming enough up there in the bloody stirrups!

Lovely though, Sarah. Kind , helpful. Very. Saved the playgroup singlehanded. Cold in the winter, mind, that shed. And that girl with the dreadlocks? "Still needs her mum, I bet...." Sent her straight back to her family. Family weren't best pleased, mind. Few effs and bs flying about. Turned out well though. Last brief glimpse of family life was more than enough. She's in the Argentine now, with a team of gauchos and teaching a really funky tango.