Today is the second of a spurt of unexpectedly mild days. There's a whisper of spring in the air, and an actual whiff of it, as well. It's spring trying to get a jump on its season, with winter fighting back. While yesterday it was also sunny with a gentle breeze however, today the wind is nasty, the sky crowded with bruised clouds, the sun completely withdrawn.

The parking lot was busy, as usual; the hospital makes a fortune out of it, extracting far too many dollars from people who have little option but to pay, when they visit this out-of-the-way location. The spot we obtain is distant from the front doors, but we don't mind; it's those who have problems hobbling about who might care, and they are legion. The doors open automatically to absorb whoever stands before it, and I enter the portal, feeling as I always do, slightly uncomfortable. A inner voice softly murmurs to me you don't belong here.

But here I am, my annual scheduled appointment, so that's that. When I hand my green hospital card over to the receptionist she enters it into my computer file, then I am invited to seat myself among the others in the nearby waiting room. There's the usual wall-mounted television irritatingly spewing meaningless nonsense, and people are seated on opposite walls, studiously avoiding one another's gazes. I haul out the novel I began reading two years ago, which I only read in brief increments while awaiting dental, optometrist, medical appointments. It's a shame, really, because this author is quite excellent; still, I am able to take up the thread each time with no problem for the story and its details remain lodged in memory.

A nurse-technician pops her head around the corner, calls my name, and chirps pleasantly that while I'm waiting to see the doctor, she will just proceed and take an electrocardiogram so he can have that information at his fingertips prior to our meeting. She's in very nice shape, the nurse, unlike so many who are overweight-to-obese. Confident and businesslike, and at the same time making a real effort to be comforting to those whom she is aware would prefer to be elsewhere, she speaks soothingly, distinctly and personably. Informing me that I should partially disrobe and just throw the hospital gown around me, then relax.

It's still raining, when I look out the window as I shrug myself into the hospital gown, that ill-fitting, miserable garment that must frustrate everyone who is faced with the ignominy of being reduced to a cipher in such a setting. The sky had opened up as I emerged from the car. I just flipped my hood up and took my time walking over to the hospital entrance.

In fact, I didn't get wet at all, that you'd really notice.