A couple of days ago I was sitting in the consulting room of a neurologist. The neurologist wasn’t actually present at that very moment. I was waiting for her to get done looking at my MRIs in another part of the building. I looked at the reading material left sitting out on the counter for patients. They were cute little board books shaped like brains and heads, featuring things like pictures of MRI machines, CT scanners and drawings of an unhappy-looking woman clutching her migrainous head in despairing need of the pharmaceutical promoted within the thick, laminated and quaintly-shaped pages.
Yes — board books! Now, I love board books, and my medical inanity-inspiration-seeking muse was positively getting giddy. Yet, in this context … there’s just something about being a patient that is so rather infantilizing. Would there be coloring books featuring brain lesions as well?
Speaking of such (brain lesions, not coloring books), I was here seeking the opinion of yet another neurologist because my last MRI was, apparently, interesting. They’re now not sure exactly what condition I actually have. Bless the neurologist’s refreshing honesty. She said, not in these exact words, that she’d be consulting with Dr. Google to see if she could come up with any ideas.
At any rate, I seriously need to get back into the mindset of a blogger. In spite of the little camera that had been sitting in my bag, I hadn’t thought to photograph an arrangement of the board books until after I’d already left the medical complex. Such a wasted opportunity!
In related news, I recently made a little drum-leaf book for We Love Your Books‘ latest exhibition, Point. It is about how pointless it all seems chasing after medical specialists’ opinions. Since I have no images of quaint pharmaceutical-medical board books to show you, I’ll give you some images of my Point book instead.