Andrea Mulder-Slater

by Andrea Mulder-Slater I watched the numbers on the dashboard clock change... 12:40pm, 12:41pm, 12:42pm. I was already officially late and was still at least 10 minutes away from my destination at the local hospital. My mind began to sprint, along with my heart. Why did I leave at 12:20pm when I know it takes at least half an hour to get to the hospital? Why did I agree to an appointment with a cardiologist? Is it possible for my heart to beat right out of my chest? Is this what a heart attack feels like? Will the painfully slow driver ahead of me notice when I slump over my wheel? I smell licorice. Calm down, calm down, calm down…  Arriving 10 minutes late for my first ever meeting with a heart specialist, I was told by the nurse behind the counter to head to radiology and get an EKG before coming back to the waiting room. There were at least four people ahead of me all staring at the Closed For Lunch sign. Like me, everyone in the queue was there to see the cardiologist.

by Andrea Mulder-Slater I love Dick and Jane books.  I loved them when I was a kid and I love them now that I am teaching the 5 year old how to read. Yesterday, I was in the office, busy writing about another one of my brushes with the medical community, when I heard my daughter reading aloud in the living room.  She was going through a book we had recently purchased at a library sale.  Then, I had a slow-motion conversation inside my head -- because, look at this. Um... what exactly is this story about? Oh shit. Did I accidentally buy a Dick and Jane parody book? WHAT can work for her? Good lord Dick! That's when I sprung into action.   I rushed to the living room, distracted the 5 year old with a box of raisins and grabbed the reader in time to see this... I love Dick and Jane books. No, really.