6:36 am and we're late. She tells me as we fly through the neighborhood that her throat is raw and she might throw up. I glance her way and lovingly say, "But you can't get sick; your ortho appointments have taken all your absences."
With one eye on teen-agers dressed entirely in black and walking down the middle of the darkened street and the other eye on the bus that might already be at the stop and a third eye checking to see if her prophecy of throwing up has been fulfilled, I add, "Besides that, I have a mammogram today so I won't be home most of the morning."
"A what?" she begins, "Oh... ewwww. Why do you always have to talk about stuff like that?! It's 6.30 in the morning. You're sick!" And the car door slams shut.
Pondering her question during my drive back home, I decide that I "always have to talk about stuff like that" because:
I am a woman
I am of a certain age
I enjoy her reaction.
Now, the decision is what to discuss tomorrow morning. Gyn visits or colonoscopies?