| OCR Text |
Show 184 Lumpty Dumpty "Dr. Chappie?" It is the fifth such phone call in as many days. "Again?" It is becoming routine. We have lowered the dosage each time after five more overdoses. It was well over 1000 mk a day. It is now at 450 mk. I am getting good at overdose, though. I know the pattern and I know when to leave home in time. I now do not let a moment pass that does not have to. "See you there," she is saying and I am looking at my list of willing friends and neighbors. Harriet is at my door in minutes. She has managed to nurture a sense of humor about the disease and all its unforeseeable directions and I am somehow relieved to hear her car's tires crunching the gravel in our driveway. We are joking for the entire forty minute ride about one thing or another and I am still only at the heavy-leg stage when we pull up to Dr. Chappie's office parking lot. Harriet helps with my transfer into the wheelchair and we enter the office. I have noticed one other thing in the past 24 hours that I will bring to Dr. Chappie's attention. |
