In Charleston, once you’ve covered kids, grandkids and how impossible it is to park at Trader Joe’s, conversation inevitably turns to medical issues. This is because one (or both parties) has had a recent surgery and polite protocol requires that you ask, “How’s it going?”
This query comes with some risk in that often the repaired individual will tell you the 500-word summary starting with the “funny feeling” in their knee during tennis three months ago and proceed step by step with who they saw, what the MD said, what the second-opinion MD said and how much pain they are still in. It was more than you wanted or needed to know.
This quickly devolves into a debate about whether the MUSC doctor or the Roper doctor was the RIGHT person to see and suggestions of two others it never occurred to you to see. As names are dropped, those within earshot bemoan or praise their experience and inevitably you are left with the distinct feeling that whoever it was, yours was the wrong surgeon. This opens the door, for everyone to recount their own most recent surgery and pretty soon you feel like you are in a gaggle of PA interns cramming for their midterms.
Such a gathering wouldn’t be complete without giving an audience to the “supplement guy.” He is the one who says, “Yeah I had the same problem six months ago…but…” Then launches into an overview of herbs, spices or some sort of vitamin supplement that exorcized his pain and made any kind of orthopedic visit unnecessary. In all of our homes we have a quarter of a bathroom shelf exclusively for past such recommendations that we’re not sure if they worked because we stopped taking them after no improvement the second week.
If you are lucky, someone walks by whose had some “work done” and the audible level of the conversation quickly drops as bystanders assess what went wrong, how much it must have cost and what they would have done instead. Even those who say, “Well I think she” (ok, once in a while HE) “looks fabulous;” don’t really mean it, but it is a strong indicator that they too are considering getting some “work done.” And once the conclave ends, will make a beeline to ask who did the work and what it costs.
The same secrecy surrounds using one of the many semaglutides to lose weight. “You look fantastic!!” is a dead giveaway that you know their weight loss has nothing to do with going to the gym four days a week and everything to do with that tiny once a week shot in the belly. Moreover, the newly-lean party starts wearing clothes that went out of fashion three years ago, because they fit again. Next up, getting a little “work done.”
It is incumbent on you not to cough or sneeze unless you want to be quizzed about when your last Covid shot was and if in fact you needed a prescription to get it. If you have a compound fracture with a bone sticking through your shin, folks will stand closer to you than if you wheeze, even a little. Some will report still wearing a mask when they go to Publix, since there is “no use in taking chances!”
The conversation will eventually turn to those in the community who have conditions that prevented their attendance. This is your standard “thoughts and prayers” moment followed by offers of “if there is anything I can do, please call me.” Those MOST under the weather will find their refrigerators crammed with unsolicited meals they will never eat nor choose to even if they were feeling just dandy. But they are still struck texting thank you messages along the lines of “...and that was simply the very best barbecued lasagna I’ve ever had!”