Poor Stanley

So, a funny thing happened at work today. I had this sweet patient – let’s call him Stanley – who I’ve known for nearly a decade. He’s been going through a rough patch lately. His elderly father just passed away, he’s been experiencing a lot of neck pain, and they finally confirmed that his thyroid is officially “dead” - which explains his debilitating fatigue. As he starts to catch me up on all the details, I invite him to lie down and relax. So, now he’s lying down, with his eyes closed, as he’s proceeds to tell me everything that’s going on in his life.

As I’m listening to every detail, I notice the tiniest, tiniest, little, black spider playing Tarzan in his blond hair. I don’t like spiders of any size, so I’m still listening to him, but I’m keeping my eye on the baby spider. I watch him jump from strand to strand as I try to decide what to do. Normally, I would come right out and tell a person this kind of thing. I certainly never hesitate to let someone know their zipper’s wide open, or lipstick’s on their teeth, or spinach is in their teeth, or my personal favorite – their shirt is inside out or on backwards. ( That usually happens to the mothers who have a million things to do in a day) I tell them these things, because I would want them to tell me!

But I didn’t want to tell him. So I lightly blew on his forehead, as if I was trying to blow out candles on a cake, hoping the spider would just blow away. I wouldn’t normally consider doing this, but this man isn’t interested in girls, so I took the chance that he wouldn’t even be phased by it, and I was right. He just kept on talking. I guess I had forgotten that spiders aren't much affected by a little breeze. I’ve seen one clinging to a flower once that was being blown sideways on a windy day. Those guys definitely know how to hang on.

So, I decided to capture the strands of hair the spider was playing in between two fingers and whisk him away. Stanley noticed that. He asked, “ Oh, was there a little piece of fuzz in my hair?” I wanted to say, “No Stanley, there was a spider in your hair – yuk! gross! ” but I felt certain that would upset him. Stanley is a very neat and hygienic individual. He’s always put together, everything in his house is white, and his Beemer convertible is cream colored with light beige interior. I honestly felt like the idea that a spider was crawling in his hair would seriously bother him – it sure bothered me! So I replied, “It’s all gone now!” and left it at that.

Stanley left the office feeling better, while I was left feeling a little itchy, because I’m not real sure where that little guy went. I’m slightly paranoid that I took him home with me.

Please God, don’t let that be true!