The elderly widower sat in the waiting room, looking at the red blotches on his hands.
His wife had regularly told him to see the doctor about it, but he kept putting it off. It didn’t seem worth the trouble until the skin began to itch. Now, with the condition on both hands, he knew it was time to do something about getting it looked at. It goes without saying that he didn’t like attending the surgery. He was scratching his hands when he was told to go through. Sitting down in front of the doctor, he held up his hands.
The medical man was horrified. He was obviously looking at an advanced case of Eczema. Knowing that the patient’s wife had passed away the year before, he surmised that the man had let himself go, probably through grief.
“My word,” he said, “how did they ever get into that condition? I think you should have come to see me a lot earlier than this.”
The old man dropped his hands to his lap. He grimaced and said, “Yes, you’re right. She told me to come and see you.”
The doctor raised his eyebrows. “I should think so.” He shook his head. “How long ago did she tell you to do that?”
The man hung his head and mumbled, “Yesterday.”