There, in all its color-coded glory (a nitrile glove blue for “disability-related events”), is a terrifyingly vague Google Calendar entry: DOCTOR’S APPOINTMENT, 2:30. David Schwartz, who meticulously updates his calendar whenever he’s feeling up for it, realizes that this painfully mysterious event must’ve been scheduled when he was absolutely spoonless. No address, no portal link, no further details; Schwartz would even been relieved to see some normally annoying addition like a medical history questionnaire (redundant), lab order (repulsive) or fax number (retro).
Schwartz, upon consulting his Health Insurance Wrapped, remembers that he sees a primary care provider, a gastroenterologist, three different endocrinologists, a rotating cast of mostly-out-of-network specialists and a dealer who is in his contacts as “Dr. Greg: Weedologist.” Any of the former, he concludes, would’ve sent a confirmation email, and the latter would never meet at a time as civil as 2:30.
Could this be the follow-up for the life-threatening concern he had ages ago for which the specialist didn’t have appointments for the rest of the year? Is it the appointment he made in a panic when his pain was too high to match any of the smiley faces on the chart? Or is it, more surprising than anything, just a regular, no-reason-necessary check-up? Impossible.
All the wondering feels like a flare-up in the making. Schwartz, taking a proactive measure to protect his health, decides to risk the cancellation fee and promptly takes a nap.
Although our overbooked and undermedicated protagonist won’t realize it until days after 2:30 has come and gone, the entry was for the appointment he helped his mother schedule. She’d been wondering if “being old” and “getting tired of facing mortality” are suitable reasons to get a medical marijuana card.