Is There A Doctor In The House? Or At Least Someone Who Plays One On TV?

Roy has been struggling with a cold for a while.  Normally he can shake off viruses and infections with a shrug, a sniffle and an accusation that all the other sick people around him are "wussies".  And while this is normally the case for him, over the course of the past few days he has encountered a glitch with his cold that was so unbearable that it drove him to measures he normally would not take.  A glitch so horrendous and unthinkable that he would endure the cost of seeing a professional.

The man. He can't taste.

He's tried a number of flavory and savory foods to test his inability.  He has suffered through meal after tasty meal.  Today he could bear it no longer.  He sent me a message that he was going to the Knapp Medical Center Minor Care Clinic in the hopes that their heavily advertised one-hour turn around would yield him some magic potion to return his ability to taste the Red Devil he liberally pours over most of his meals.  He waited 2 hours in line behind an elderly gentleman by the name of Bruce Willis.  No, not THAT Bruce Willis.  The Bruce Willis that lives in Weslaco and walks with a cane.  The same one that never made it past the sign-in desk for two hours or before my husband threw his hands in the air, gave a two finger salute in disgust and stormed out.

After two hours he left with his pride and his infection intact.  Both unshakable in the face of poor customer service and a false advertisement of speedy attention.

Just now Roy ate two helpings of my potato salad and told me how great it was.  He forgot that I know he can't taste a dang thing.