musingsonwomenshealth.com

Reflections on 40 years as a doctor in Women's Health

There is flattery in friendship


I have always admired liminality; for me, boundaries are also thresholds. And yet there are areas where, until recently, only angels dared to tread. But I am content to watch from afar; I have neither the need, nor the desire to trespass; I am content with who I am, but curious about who I am not. Still, even curiosity is viewed askance in some circles -as if inquisitiveness implies interest… and interest suggests perversion. The Food Court is a good example.

Meeting with the guys at the Food Court on Wednesday mornings began in earnest after many of the social restrictions from the Covid pandemic started to be relaxed. The assemblage was usually a rag-bag of retired elderly men shooed out of their houses by wives craving time alone like the old days when at least one of them was at work. Attendance varied, dependent on the spousal tolerance, but George was a regular.

A tall, thin specimen, he was always dressed the same in a fraying white shirt from his days at the office, and grey flannel pants that flaunted a recent weight loss and hung from his waist like shower curtains. What hair remained on his head was off-white and too thin to cover his scalp, so he often sported an old brown fedora that, unlike his mask, he usually refused to remove at the table.

Jason was a regular as well, but unlike George, was usually dressed in faded jeans, and a perpetually wrinkled grey sweat shirt. He wore glasses that were either dirty or fogged up, and for some reason slipped down his nose whenever he talked. This kept him occupied like a tic and so he seemed forever in motion, either wiping them or, like Sisyphus, pushing them further up towards his eyes, only to have them slide back down again.

And from the moment either of them arrived at the table, the two of them were in constant disagreement -Jason insisting George remove his hat, George telling Jason either to stop fiddling with his glasses or take them off.

One day, however, it was different, and although Jason persisted in his Sisyphean task, he used his free hand to point at George’s neck.

“What in the world is that, George?” he said, reaching over to touch the necklace George was wearing.

George, of course, swiped the miscreant hand away. “What does it look like, Jay?” he said, clearly upset at the breach of etiquette.

A wry smile spread slowly over Jason’s face. “It looks like a necklace, George… I just can’t believe it…”

George merged his eyebrows into the wrinkles on his forehead and stared at Jason with contempt. “And why’s that, Jay? You’re wearing something on your nose; I have chosen to wear something on my neck… Do you have a problem with that?”

Jason was clearly taken aback at the anger, and risked a quick glance at me.

I have to admit that I liked the necklace the moment I saw it. Unlike the ostentatious gold chains I’d occasionally seen decorating the necks of buff young men, George’s necklace was far more beautiful and unusual. It featured a thin, linked chain of gold holding two golden birds sitting on a branch facing each other. I’d been about to compliment George on it when Jason had arrived.

Jason wisely kept his own counsel until he had decided how to reply. “No problem, George…” he hesitated for a moment. “It’s just that…” Once again, he seemed to have problems putting what he actually thought into words –safe words. “Well, I’ve never seen you in a necklace before.”

George shrugged and managed a weak smile. “Ellie wears one when she goes out,” he explained. “And anyway, my son gave this to me as a birthday present the other day.”

Jason was obviously having problems whether to acknowledge the birthday, or to ask about the son’s choice of gift. So he tried to hide his confusion with a smile and a quick swipe at his glasses that by this time had almost fallen off his nose. This gave him the opportunity to think of a rejoinder. “It’s certainly an interesting gift, George,” he said, and removed his glasses to clean them and buy some more time. “I take it your son has rather eclectic tastes…”

I could tell it was an attempt to avoid asking anything embarrassing about George’s son.

But George welcomed the opportunity. “Arvid has always been his own person,” he said, obviously proud of his son. “Even as a child, he often tried out some of his mother’s jewellery… When he got older, I remember one time he even convinced her to lend him one of her silk blouses. He thought the pattern was beautiful, and he liked the feel of it against his skin.”

Jason now looked very uneasy that he had opened the floodgates. “Is Arvid…” His discomfort was evident, and he even removed his glasses and placed them carefully on the table in front of him .

George, however, seemed to be enjoying Jason’s embarrassment. “Is Arvid gay…?”  He shook his head and chuckled. “Far from it, actually.” He sat back in his chair and had a sip of his coffee. “He just thinks it unfair that only women get to wear the colourful pretty clothes…”

Jason seemed surprised, but his face was still beet-red and although it was obvious that he wanted to ask more questions, he couldn’t figure out how to do that.

George observed his distress for a moment, and then decided to help him out of the dilemma. “Arvid is eighteen, and like many of his friends, is what he calls ‘non-binary’. In fact, he doesn’t see why he has to make a choice…”

“But…” Jason’s expression showed that he was still really confused -whether at the ‘non-binary’ expression, or the thought that there was actually a choice.

George smiled at the interruption, and sighed. “It seems to me that the appropriate discussion should be whether or not you think my necklace is beautiful, and whether it looks good on me…”

I could see Jason’s face relaxing as he stared at the necklace. “Actually…” he managed to say, while nodding his head in approval, “It’s really quite beautiful.” He sent his eyes to circle George’s cheeks for a moment and then summoned them home to roost on his by-now cooling cup of coffee. “I’ve always though your scrawny neck could really use a distraction, George…”

He had a point.

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gozzter

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