First Aid

Be Prepared, they said.

I was, as I walked
into the
obstetrician's office.

fully prepared to
pass my first aid merit
badge examination.
wearing full scouting regalia:
uniform, neckerchief,
short pants, stockings held up
by garters, merit badge sash,
medals, cap, carrying my supplies:
two tree limbs six-feet long each
(to make an improvised stretcher),
blankets (also for the stretcher),
several sticks for tourniquets,
lengths of cloth and rope,
bandages, first aid kit, you name it.

the receptionist
asked if I had
an appointment.

yes, I said.

ok, she said.
please take a seat.
it will only be a moment.

I dragged my
sticks and blankets and
whatnot, clanging and banging,
into the waiting room.

five very pregnant women
slowly looked up from
their magazines,
stared at me briefly,
and slowly returned
to their reading.

I waited.

the doctor opened his door.
I dragged my stuff
into his office, banging into
everything on the way.

I passed the exam.

I dragged my stuff,
tree limbs, blankets, everything,
back through the waiting room.
heads slowly raised, slowly lowered.
again.

back past the receptionist,
banging and floundering out
the front door,
down the walkway
to the waiting car.
mom drove us home.

did you pass, she asked.

yeah, I said.