No more skipping for Patsy . . .

In this picture, I’m looking very worried. It was taken years ago when my dad and brother were trying to fix something . . . who knows what since I can’t remember that far back . . . and I was apparently worried about it. So there I was – all slumped over, slouched down and looking so down and out. But now I’m worried about something else.

The other night I had a dream – not an MLK dream, just a stupid dream like I have all the time. I was in a department store with my daughters, Teri and Cindy. Maybe we were coming from an I Eta Pi sorority meeting . . . I don’t know how we got there. Anyway, I looked at Cindy and saw a huge, black mustache on her upper lip. I was surprised, but nothing she does ever surprises me too much, so I let it pass. Then I noticed Teri up ahead, and she was skipping through the store! Skipping!! I told her about it the next day, and we both laughed at what a crazy dream it was. But then I thought I’d see if I could skip anymore. I’ve had funny things happening with my legs the past few years, so figured I’d check into the skipping. Well, I couldn’t skip and I couldn’t jump. So that’s when I got the worried look.

I had my yearly physical a few days later with my new doctor – lady doctor – doctress? What do you call a female doctor? I guess I’ll call her my doctress. I like her. So she did many tests on my legs, and then I told her about the skipping and jumping. Her eyes gleamed as if a light had gone on! She asked me to hop on each leg which was a complete washout. I failed the test. So she took a lot of blood and will get back to me on my condition. I don’t know what I’m hoping, but I’d like some answers after 4 or 5 years of discomfort. Maybe it will be restless legs or possibly jimmy legs like Kramer’s girlfriend, Sarah Silverman, had on “Seinfeld.” Who knows?

I’m not looking worried anymore as it was too hard to maintain the look. But just in case, I thought I’d better call the Scooter Store. Now I’m waiting for the very nice man from the Scooter Store to come and show me what he has . . . maybe he’ll even bring a scooter. Oh, oh . . . there’s the doorbell . . . gotta go!