Yesterday, handmaiden that I am, I paid a short visit to Queen Joan and concluded on my way back to my humble quarters that there are some people in the world who are so special that when in their presence, you are sure the world has a soul.
Queen Joan is one of those unique people.
When I entered her chamber, she sat on her throne–a throne that befits her limitations. Her walker and wheelchair rounded out her furnishings, along with a stiff kitchen-table chair for me, her loyal servant.
The Court Trainer had just left with strict instructions concerning the Queen’s diet. No more Oreo cookies! No more Sees candies! The Queen is putting on weight! Because she has no balance and no active life, no hearing and clearly no discipline, it must be her attendants that need culinary restraint!!
Joan is no stranger to court trainers, servants, and of course, the court doctors.
Her ebullient smile and soft eyes belie the circumstances that under her reign have provided a steady stream of work for the entire court medical staff: her audiologist, her pain specialist, her rheumatologist, her radiologist, oncologist, hematologist, gastro-enterologist, urologist, and dermatologist. As one of her heroes, Sir Mel Brooks, aptly stated, ” It’s good to be the Queen.”
My! I rheumanated, as I sneaked into the kitchen, worried that the Court Trainer might return to the Queen’s Chamber at any time. My! I rheumanated, shall I provide the Queen with a small sweet, sure to inject her pensive demeanor with a delirium of crunchy, chocolaty, and nutty delight?
Her bib in place, she opened with color like a kaleidoscope.
While she was relishing her treat, she looked over at me–her trusty attendant and inquired, “Who gave me this drumstick?”
“I did, your highness.”