Dr. Mom

Earlier this past week I was getting this strange chest pains that seemed to come at night and felt like hunger pangs smack in between my breasts. I sent an inquiry email to my dear physician, Dr. Wilson (aka my mom) – I feared that I might be developing dreaded GERD, which has plagued my grandmother my entire lifetime. She responded to my concerns in a phone message later that evening that I was having mild anxiety attacks. When we talked the next day I related that I’d had five papers due in the last week, seen An Inconvenient Truth, and watched some kind of graphic footage of happenings in Iraq. My brain is full and I feel all heavy.

“Oh, yeah, while you were watching An Inconvenient Truth, I was at a pandemic summit – pretty much the consensus is avian flu is coming. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when,” my mom says.

“Holy shit. I’m getting chest pains again.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it now.”

My mom has awesome bedside matter.