What's Up, Doc?

It's funny how accents can affect the psyche. I was just now dosing off in my son's hospital room, when I heard this british accent. It was this evening’s resident doctor. And I somehow felt better about things. My son was in good hands. The doctor may have graduated bottom of his class and have more malpractice suits than their are Made in China stickers. But damn, was he articulate.

Me, I’m a little awkward about my speech. I was born and raised in New York City, then moved to the northern suburbs in my twenties. But I still talk as if I never left.

New Yawkeeze they call it. For instance, when I have to go to the toilet, I still say things like, “I gotta go ta da bahtroom! Whaddaya doin’ innear?” It drives my wife nuts.

I clammed up when Dr. UK was consulting my son. I smiled and went back into grazing mode on my laptop. First I checked into Facebook. Noticed Sooz006 was signed in and so I stopped and said hello. She’s a lovely woman. I was quick with my pleasantries. Knowing how late it was across the ocean. When the doctor left, I started writing this while waiting for food to be delivered.

I now have this big fear that when the doctor return’s I’ll try to over-compensate for my New Yorkeeze and start blabbing like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. That suddenly I’d have this phony cockney accent and say something like, ‘ello, gov’nor! 'Ows it 'angin’?’ Then he’d ask me from which part of my pretend British heritage I hailed and, or, swat me with his clipboard.

I’m hoping for the clipboard. I'm starting to dose again and could use a rude awakening.

I'm told visiting hours hours are now and it’s time to go home. So,good night, to youse all.