A Lifetime of Sick

I ran into Merlene Pottshaw down at the bank yesterday. Her mother passed away last week and I wanted to express my sympathy. "It was for the best," she told me.

"Mamma lived for 96 years in pure agony. I reckon y'all all knew that. She experienced every ailment listed in her medical dictionary and consequently had every test known to man short of an autopsy. She read the obits on a regular basis and would take on the disease left behind by the deceased more often than not. If she would have been allowed an x-ray every time she requested one she would have lit up like Madam Curie and would not have even been a candidate for the Nobel Prize. In a way illness or perceived illness was like a tonic to her. We think it's what kept her going so long. She asked her doctor to prescribe every drug she saw advertised on TV and when she talked him into it she preceded to have all the side effects listed on the little pamphlet they give out down at the drug store. Me and the other children had to make a tough decision. She had told us many times she wanted to have an autopsy after her death to tell everyone once and for all just how bad off she was. We just couldn't bring ourselves to do it. Hope she forgives us. I think you could say mamma truly enjoyed poor health."

I had to get away as quick as possible because I started to feel a headache coming on. Hope it's not a brain tumor.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle