Scene 19
Scene Nineteen...Test Results
Time: After school, Monday, February 18, 1946
Place: Doris's house
Storyteller: Janet
I ride my bike to Doris's, walk in, and say, "Hello. Anybody home?"
"In the kitchen," Betty answers.
The two of them are having tea.
"Cream and sugar, please. What are Doris's test results?" I don't beat around the bush.
"My thyroid gland isn't producing enough hormone. That's why I don't have much energy and skip periods."
"How are you going to fix her, Doc Robertson?"
"Low dose prescription thyroid medication. Plus a diet change. In a few months, she may be able to quit the pills."
Mom was right! "What's the diet change?"
"No wheat. No bread, buns, crackers, pasta, baked goods, Wheaties..." says Doris.
I interrupt, "No Wheaties? You'll have to switch to eggs."
"Eggs are delicious. And more importantly, Betty thinks I'll be good as new."
My sister chimes in, "At least you don't have the autoimmune form of hypothyroidism, Hashimoto's disease."
"If you're going to use big Oriental words, I might as well go home. Besides, all this talk of food is making me hungry. Dad's grilling tonight."
I give Betty a peck on the cheek. Doris rates a tight hug. Glad that's settled. Now I can concentrate on Ballet.
Time: After school, Monday, February 18, 1946
Place: Doris's house
Storyteller: Janet
I ride my bike to Doris's, walk in, and say, "Hello. Anybody home?"
"In the kitchen," Betty answers.
The two of them are having tea.
"Cream and sugar, please. What are Doris's test results?" I don't beat around the bush.
"My thyroid gland isn't producing enough hormone. That's why I don't have much energy and skip periods."
"How are you going to fix her, Doc Robertson?"
"Low dose prescription thyroid medication. Plus a diet change. In a few months, she may be able to quit the pills."
Mom was right! "What's the diet change?"
"No wheat. No bread, buns, crackers, pasta, baked goods, Wheaties..." says Doris.
I interrupt, "No Wheaties? You'll have to switch to eggs."
"Eggs are delicious. And more importantly, Betty thinks I'll be good as new."
My sister chimes in, "At least you don't have the autoimmune form of hypothyroidism, Hashimoto's disease."
"If you're going to use big Oriental words, I might as well go home. Besides, all this talk of food is making me hungry. Dad's grilling tonight."
I give Betty a peck on the cheek. Doris rates a tight hug. Glad that's settled. Now I can concentrate on Ballet.