Seamus was more than happy to ferry Jules back and forth to his medical appointments. It gave him something to do. He was in a slump and missed being around the horses. He sometimes drove out to a friend’s ranch and fed them. A retired horse dentist, he didn’t yearn to remove their teeth, but yearned to remove their suffering. Their bulging eyes and enormous mouths. He found most of them to be gentle giants, when not in the throes of tooth pain. Most of all, he loved watching them stroll across a paddock when recognizing a human friend with a healthy supply of carrots.
Seamus and his family, all six of them, left Belfast in the early-1970s. They landed in Hartford, Connecticut, where Seamus’ mom took accounting classes and his dad fixed pipes. Seamus had a thick accent and was mocked relentlessly throughout his high school years. Seamus thrived when he began helping others in school, just as he had back in Belfast, through the church. Seamus had been retired for a few years now, and figured it was time to do more in the community again and stop sitting on his ass on the couch, watching animal documentaries and listening to true crime podcasts.
Jules called Seamus a couple of nights ago, mentioning the appointment. So off Seamus went. Another date with his adopted Uncle Jules.
Seamus hopped into his dark green Subaru and drove the 10 minutes over to Jules’ house. He beeped the horn on the steering wheel to let Jules know he’d arrived. Always ready on time, Jules put on his wool coat, locked the door and carefully navigated the dozen or so front steps. It was almost 11. Plenty of time until the 11:30 appointment.
Jules asked Seamus if he ever used those ride-sharing apps. Reva mentioned them, but Jules preferred to share a ride with his pal. Once in a while, Seamus had something else going on and Jules called for a taxi.
“How ya feeling today, friend?” Seamus asked.
“Doing alright. Another Wednesday. A bit hungry,” Jules said.
“Grab some Chinese food after you’re done?” Seamus asked.
“Ooh, sounds good,” Jules replied.
They headed down the hill toward the freeway and downtown Santa Barbara, catching up on the last week or two. Jules told Seamus about his new helpers, Ako and Ruby. Reva had cancelled Ako on this Wednesday morning due to the appointment. Ruby would be back tomorrow night and Ako again on Friday morning.
Seamus pulled up to the front door of the medical office and let Jules out.
“I’ll wait here in the lot,” Seamus said. Jules nodded and headed into the office.
Jules felt a little light-headed today. Maybe he’d forgotten to eat breakfast. He went up to the counter. The receptionist asked for his name. Jules pulled down his mask to speak. People didn’t seem to hear him when he spoke with it on.
“Jules Green. I have an 11:30,” Jules said, tapping his fingers on the desk. The woman was wearing her mask.
“Please have a seat. Dr. Wong will see you shortly,” said the receptionist, in the distracted tone of a tired actor who has to repeat the same line forever.
The nurse eventually called his name and guided him into the room. She looked a bit like his granddaughter Neve, with her auburn hair and a no-nonsense expression. She took his vital signs after measuring his height and weight.
“You don’t have to keep taking my height,” Jules cracked. “Soon I’ll be three feet tall.”
The nurse chuckled. “Okay, next time, I’ll just ask you how tall you are,” she said.
She strapped his arm with that balloon wrap and inflated it to cut off his circulation. Jules felt the tightening and then felt his blood pulsing through his veins. An odd sensation.
“All set,” she said. “Dr. Wong will be in soon,” she added.
“Thank you,” Jules said.
Jules looked around the sterile office. How many pneumonia-riddled, Covid patients had been in that office in the last few years? Jules wondered.
Dr. Wong opened the door and greeted Jules.
“Come on up here,” Dr. Wong patted the medical table. “So how’re you feeling today, Mr. Green?” Dr. Wong asked.
“I’m alright, thank you. No severe pains,” Jules said. “Though the Sixers haven’t been playing well,” he added.
“I’m a Clippers fan, so I can’t get my hopes up,” replied Dr. Wong, shaking his head.
“Have you avoided all these respiratory illnesses going around this winter?” Dr. Wong asked.
“Think so. Had the sniffles last week, but nothing bad. No cough,” Jules said.
“I see you’ve been boosted several times. Have you had the pneumonia vaccine?” Dr. Wong asked.
“No. I hadn’t heard about it,” Jules replied.
“Can we give it to you today?” Dr. Wong asked.
“Sure, why not?” replied Jules. What was one more vaccine?
“Oh good. Well, we’re going to need to take some blood today,” Dr. Wong said.
“Okay,” Jules said. He looked away. Jules hated the sight of his blood leaving his body. He’d seen a horrible motorcycle accident when he was a teenager, and the image of blood pooling on the sidewalk was seared into his memory. Dr. Wong found a good vein in Jules’ forearm and drew the blood.
“And tell me, how is your memory these days?” Dr. Wong asked.
“Not 100 percent, but I guess nobody’s is.” Jules said.
“Would you say it’s about 90 percent? Or more like 60 percent?” Dr. Wong asked.
“Oh about 83 percent. Same as my age,” Jules replied. “But I’m not running for president, so it’s not too bad,” Jules quipped.
Dr. Wong laughed as he put the cap on the syringe and placed it in a little holder.
“Well, that’s it for today,” Dr. Wong said. “You should receive an email after the lab work goes through and we’ll let you know if anything is abnormal.”
“Alrighty,” said Jules.
“See you next time and be well,” Dr. Wong said as Jules bent over to put on his shoes.
Seamus was in a daze, listening to Van Morrison in the car. He was tapping on the steering wheel and whistling out of tune. Jules surprised him by knocking on the window. “Who’s ready for hot and sour soup and pot stickers?” Jules asked. “Yes!” Seamus shouted. Jules got in the passenger side and buckled up.
“Are you still alive?” Seamus asked.
“I think so,” said Jules.