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This injury didn’t delight her. It didn’t daunt her much, either. On Memorial Day, three months before her birthday, she stepped on a live charcoal briquet in the driveway. The resulting blister covered her whole instep.
Dr. Jock Robey, our cherished and esteemed family pediatrician, congratulated us on the prospect of a couple of weeks’ respite from Debbie’s monumental mobility. But only a day or so later, Rick found her hanging onto furniture and lurching energetically around the room. “Gee, Deb, that must hurt!” “It hurt. I walk now.”
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You see, at left, our Doodle’s trademark response to just about anything that pleased her. That may (or may not) be a plush penguin. It pleased her.
To this day, reserve has never been her long suit. As a bashful guy, I’ve learned some important lessons from my middle daughter.
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Debbie recalls (2011): “I remember I didn’t want Dr Robey to put the bandage on. He said, “If I make it talk to you, will you let me put it on?” I skeptically said, “Yes…” and he drew a face on it and said in a silly voice, “Hi, Debbie! I’m your bandage! I’ll keep your foot nice and clean!“ If you look really closely, you can see the face in the picture--it’s on the top side of my foot.”
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