On Monday I was at the hospital for an MRI. Don't like those things so, in between the breath in, breath outs I concentrated on how weird it had been to see graffiti on the wall of the tiny changing room cubicle. The writing could have been my grandmother's, it was a beautiful old fashioned script and read "There are many things in life that may change us, but it all starts and ends with family." I came up with about five possible stories for how it got there and why it hadn't been removed. It must have had something to do with the renovations taking place in the Radiology Department and it as sure as hell wasn't a youngster who did the writing.
I would have been able to do better but another image from the cubicles kept intruding. A lady who didn't look much older than me was ushered into the cubicle area and asked to remove all clothing down to the waist. She became quite agitated, protesting that she would do no such thing and then asking what was going on, who was this person who was suggesting such an outrage? Two days later I still have these two memories flitting around in my head. I find the thought of that older lady quite distressing. I hope if ever I suffer a decline in mental ability severe enough to interfere with my being able to go for an x-ray on my own that I can be as dignified as she was.
And to ease the thought of any such horror that may be in my future I picture myself picking up a pencil and writing on the wall.