Mrs. Teabody Deals with January Hell

January Hell

Which maddened me more I cannot say
The last button falling off my winter coat
Or seeing the flattened tire at the start of my day
As the winds blew hard and deadened my hope.

At least I’d arrived at the office on time
Hung my buttonless wrap on a corner tree
My appointment was next, no waiting in line
“Good Morning,” she said, “and please follow me.”

“How did you manage to gain half a stone*?”

Asked the querulous voice barely hiding her scorn.
“The election,” I said in my pettiest tone;
“My heartbeat’s erratic and riddled with thorn.”

She penned my response on my chart in her hand
And left me to stew in a small, airless room.
I disrobed and donned the garb on the stand
Sat down to consider my impending doom:

Would the clog in my throat spell my untimely end?

Was the spot on my cheek from some fatal cause?
That cyst on my hand that just wouldn’t mend?
That breathless anxiety that gave me such pause?

He briskly arrived with my chart in his hand.
“I despair,” I lamented as he started to probe.
“My heart’s on the fritz; it beats like a band
I’m sad all the time; I’ve lost all my hope.”

“Your heart seems fine; that spot is just dust.

Are you taking that pill for the clog in your throat?”
When I shook my head “no”, he looked on in disgust.
I was happy to watch as a prescription he wrote.

He folded the script, clipped it onto my chart
Told me to exercise, lay off fatty grub
“You’re healthy and lucky but must do your part.
See you next year; oh, . . . join a health club.”

My “maladies” blew to atoms and floated on air
I wondered what script he’d concocted for me
As I swapped into my street clothes and sat on the chair
The nurse reappeared and then gave it to me.

His scribbles made clear if I hoped to adjust
And I thought up  three names with their numbers beside
“Hold them accountable every day if you must

You don’t have to love them --just make them abide.”

 I smiled realizing the strength of his claim
I knew that their job was service to all
With effort from me, they’d soon all learn my name

One person makes changes, no matter how small.

I held my coat closed, flung open the door
To the January hell still waiting outside
I noted my tire had been fully restored
And I knew we’d get by and take it in stride.

* a stone is fourteen pounds; "half a stone" is seven