“You’ll have to keep the room as dark as possible. Put sheets over these windows to keep the light out,” Dr. Sanders instructed Mama. “She should eat soups, broths, jellies and Jell-o. That’s all. She can’t strain her eyes, so no books to look at, and no excitement of any kind. I’ll come back again in a few days to see how she’s getting along. It’s just a bad case of the measles, so don’t worry. They’re going around this winter, and she was bound to catch them.”
“How long will she be sick?” Mama asked.
“Depends on how bad a case she has. Sometimes they miss two weeks of school. We’ll have to see. Sheila Rae’s only seven, and the young ones seem to get better quicker. The penicillin shot should help.”
With that bit of cheeriness old Dr. Sanders got heavily to his feet and picked up his black bag. He was a large man with a balding head of white hair that was typically covered by a small brown weather-beaten hat. He peered over rimless glasses that teetered precariously on a nose that appeared lost between his rotund cheeks. He reminded me of Santa Claus in a frayed black suit instead of a shiny red one.
That’s why I always liked him right up until he gave me the penicillin shot, which appeared to be his cure for everything including measles. He was cheery, but not above inflicting pain on defenseless children. And in their own house, too. Not fair.
*****************
My mother always followed the doctor’s orders which included his dietary recommendations for every illness as faithfully as the shot of penicillin he carried in his black bag. This past week I developed a bad case of the epizooti which is my medical term for illnesses I “catch” from Pretty’s allergies. I remembered the dietary advice Dr. Sanders gave when I was sick with any childhood malady so I thought I would follow it seven decades later. Forgive me for skipping the soups, broths and Jell-o recommendations to go straight for the jellies. The Shipt shopper must have wondered why I needed three kinds of preserves: grape, strawberry and apricot. Yummy. The apricot on two pieces of toast for breakfast this morning made me feel better already.
As for the doctor’s “no excitement of any kind” advice, too little too late. The US Open men’s semi-finals in singles were this weekend, and the women’s final is this afternoon. Coco Gauff is my pick to win it all, but Aryna Sabalenka is a tall order for the nineteen year old Gauff who is the first American teenager to be in a final at the US Open since, wait for it, Serena Williams in 2001. Go, Coco!
I'll Call It Like I See It 
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