Patricia: So, I am at the doctor's office but it isn't an office. It is the screened in porch in the front of his house. I see no evidence of any doctor equipment. Just a big wooden desk, toys on the floor and succulents by the window. Right outside the window in the patio they are selling tacos and cokes. They have a barbeque grill set up and the smell of cooking meat is coming in the window. It is making me hungry. People are talking, eating and milling around, enjoying the morning.
They can see in the window and I can watch them but I am focused on my feet. They aren't interested in me, only their food. My toes are burning. They have been burning for weeks. The elderly doctor is wearing a wife beater T-shirt with writing on the front. It is too old for me to be able to read. Plus it is in Spanish. His helper is a little girl. Maybe four years old. She is playing with a strange toy nearby as I show the doctor my feet. I am wearing flip flops, just for that purpose.
He puts his stethoscope on my ankles and listens to the blood running through me. He barely speaks English and my Spanish is just as bad as his English. We use our hands a lot to communicate. He didn't ask me my name and I don't remember his. I just saw his name on the front of his house and that he was a doctor. So I walked in. After checking my ankles, he manages to tell me that I have poor circulation.
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