Confusion at Doctor's Even When It Is in English

I am sitting at the ortho doctor's office. It is my first time here. I have typed in my name at the sign-in port and am waiting for the receptionist to call my name. "Mar..." is called. Well we are used to not understanding what is being said around us, so "Mar..." is close enough for me. I go to the window. The receptionist asks me if I still live at 684? I have never lived at a 684. I tell her that and she corrects my address. (I am still confused.) Then she takes my medicare and insurance cards and adds in those numbers. Then she asks me if I still have Summit Health Care. I tell her I have never had Summit Health Care. So I finally say, "I think you have me confused with someone else!" She says, "You are Martin, right?" "No, I am not Martin." Right then I hear the other receptionist calling, "Ann". I tell the current receptionist that I think that is my call. The next receptionist immediately asks me my birthdate, whic

Immigrants Giving to Us.

I had the grandkids at a thrift shop to replace daughter Peace’s PJ’s that she forgot to bring along on the trip here to South Carolina and Minnesota. We did look a bit like a motley crew. My knee hurt and I was in a wheelchair with my 7 year old grand daughter Bailey pushing me. The others were running around and being reasonably noisy. As we waited at the dressing room for our turn, Alissa our 9 year old was listening to the non-stop dialogue of a little Latino girl. They were having a good time.   The little girl’s English was completely fluent, but I asked in Spanish where she was from. She said Honduras. The grandkids asked for quarters for the gum/novelty machines. Being me, my answer was only if you have your own quarter. Alissa did have one quarter, but the machine “ate” it. Disappointment. Right then a young Latino boy (friend, cousin, brother to the little girl?) who had listened and watched the whole process came over and gave Alissa and Bailey a quarter each for the machi