Why Are Doctors So Afraid of Apples?

           

            On Wednesday at around 10:30 I went to the food bank to get a number. Again, the line-up was already past, but I got an earlier number than the week before. When the receptionist handed me number 19 and told me she’d see me at 13:30, I complained that no one had told me about the early start the week before. She said that they hadn’t known about it either. It turned out that the news crew were there for a shorter period than they’d expected, so they just let everyone come in afterwards and so they were finished earlier than expected. She apologized that I’d been inconvenienced.

            When I went out to unlock my bike, Marlon was standing nearby and commented that I had a strong bike. I said, “I do?” He justified his comment by saying that it has to be strong to carry me around. I told him that it’s needed a lot of adjustments in order to fit my body, since it had previously belonged to my ex-girlfriend. I’d had to put an extension bar on in order to raise the seat to the proper height. He repeated the standard measurement of the seat needing to come up to one’s hip, which in my case would be way off, as my seat is far above my hip when I stand beside my bike. I pointed out that a better measurement should be between the pedal and the seat, since pedals are not all the same distance from the ground. If one is sitting on the seat with one’s foot on the pedal and one’s leg is only slightly bent, that’s a good measurement.

            I went home for a while, took a shower and tidied up, then did some writing before heading back to the food bank. They were at number 10 when I arrived, so it wasn’t a long wait.

            There were a few more choices this time around. I took a bag of glazed almonds, because almonds are expensive at the supermarket; a bag of potato thins, which kind of look like potato chips on the package but are really a cracker made from potato flour; a few granola bars; three juice boxes; a can of broad beans; a couple of quarter boxes of saltines; and a box of Shreddies, which was my favourite cereal when I was a kid. There was no room in my backpack for the Shreddies, so I opened up a Presidents Choice cloth bag and put it in there. My volunteer reached into my backpack, removed the crackers and the potato thins and put them in the bag with the Shreddies, because he said the soft stuff might get crushed.

            In Sue’s section I got some Maple yogourt. She said she hadn’t seen me for a while. I told her that I had been there the week before. It was true though that I’d been away for a whole month before that though. I got a bag of something that looked like little chunks of white granola, but I think it was frozen chunks of chopped chicken. There were also some egg patties and some ranch flavoured veggie dip.

            In the bread section I took some cranberry buns that were already wrapped in plastic, but some other loaves were not wrapped. I reached for one because it looked like raisin bread but when I saw that it had chopped olives, I put it back, but then Theresa, who was standing nearby in the vegetable section told me, “If you touch it, you have to take it, dear!” Of course, that made perfect sense and I felt thoughtless and corrected for it, but not guilty. I put the olive bread in my bag. She indicated the tongs that were hanging on the side of the shelf and I nodded that I got it. I took another loaf that had pumpkin seeds on the crust, with my hands again because I knew I wouldn’t be putting it back. Theresa had some bags of mushrooms, which I’d never seen at the food bank before, so I took one. I took an apple from her and on my way out the door she gave me another, because, “You know, they keep the doctor away!” I imagined swarms of doctors attacking me on the street and apples, like garlic against vampires, being the only effective bane.

            I read Sinclair Ross’s “The Painted Door” again. Our Short Story test would be the next Tuesday. The only stories we’d be tested on were the one’s we’d looked at since the previous test and that excluded Gabrielle Roy as well because of the essay. I wanted to re-read as many as I could before then. That would be our final class.

            Sinclair Ross was a very strong writer and “The Painted Door” is a well-composed study in loneliness in a storm, leading to infidelity.

            I watched an episode of the George Burns and Gracie Allen Show from 1953. After watching a movie about a couple that discover after several years that they’re not legally married (I think that was a rare Hitchcock comedy) Gracie gets it into her head that she and George were never really married either. George sends for Jack Benny to straighten it all out, since he had been a witness at their wedding. Gracie and Jack are having coffee. She asks if he wants sugar. He says “Two spoons please.” Gracie shrugs and puts two spoons into his cup.