Shady Dancers

Writing on Water

Yes, Virginia, you CAN get sick of ice cream

DAY 1 POST-OP

Yesterday I posted THIS on my twitter blog:

So me n my tonsils parted company today. Nomming icecream ftw!! #imtoooldforthisshit

"FTW" indeed!! My post-op instructions inform my mom that she should try to keep me indoors and "relatively quiet" for the first three days. They ARE, after all, post-op instructions for the parents of children who have just undergone a tonsillectomy. Adults can use pretty much the same post-op instructions...it's just that we need to double everything.

It takes at least twice a long for an adult to recover from this same procedure, and it is significantly more painful and debilitating. Debilitating partly from the pain, and partly from the pain killers used to manage it.

I would otherwise be on "Day 2" of my post-op instructions and would be able to add pudding, pureed veggies, cottage cheese, etc to my diet -- oh I WISH. I can't even imagine washing BROTH (allowed on Day 1) over these tonsil-holes, let alone something more substantial in texture and nutrition! Still suckin' down the vanilla ice cream at this point. Just whipped up a batch of JELL-O though (... well mom and/or sis did anyway) so I'm broadening my culinary horizons by at least 100%

Turn to the right...wait.

I do not have to walk far from my office to encounter this kind of stuff, and in deference to Abe Froman the Sausage King of Chicago, I too weep for the future.

Yes, the angle brackets on the adjacent "signage" are supposed to represent directional arrows, and yes they absolutely do indeed point ever so clearly and boldly to the LEFT.

I know the question that is trying to form in your rational mind at this very moment, and while you probably have not completely finished constructing it (it's okay... I know you're distracted by a horde of jostling and competing thoughts) I can tell you that the answer to your question is "I DON'T KNOW!!!"

The smell of coolness

Beware the banditos

"They're Gypsies," Rosa told me as we walked up the street toward where we board our shuttle that takes us from the hospital where we work to the lot where we park in the next town over. Well that answered my question, anyway. I noticed the gathering as I left work the day before. A large group of men (all of whom appeared to be in their mid 20s to their 40s and, perhaps, eastern European) were congregated in the smoking areas along the sidewalk in front of the hospital. They were all dressed similarly - dark slacks with white dress shirts. Their hair styles were all remarkably similar and they were speaking what was to me an unfamiliar dialect as they congregated in several small groups. There were bulk-quantity packs of bottled water and other snack/drink products interspersed throughout the group and they passed snacks and drinks to one another as they chatted. I took them for a team of foreign health care professionals perhaps touring our hospital as part of their education or a conference.

"This happens from time to time," Rosa told me as we walked. Snippets of foreign conversations faded behind us. "Whenever one of their young family members gets sick, they come from all over -- huge families -- to be together." This struck me as truly remarkable, but Rosa went on before I could ponder the facts of the matter much further. I'd known Rosa as an acquaintance since I began working at the hospital a few years prior. An adorable person with among the more kind and cheerful dispositions I've come to know at work. Certainly the matriarch of what I imagined must be a large and loving Hispanic family. Rosa is the roly-poly quintessence of the kindly grandmother. "They used to scare some of the other nurses," she told me. "Even I never trusted them. When they'd come around I would always walk around the other way to avoid them. And when I'd walk by, I would try to hide my purse, and I'd watch them like this, you know..." Rosa made a classic, shifty-eyed face of distrust and watchfulness as she pretend-watched the "untrustworthy" Gypsies. I had to laugh. She was so earnest and concerned. And the honesty of her prejudice was starkly revealed and contrasted by her loving and lovable disposition.

"But then one day you know," she went on, "I was passing them out here on the street again. And I was watching them like this," (more of her steely evil-eye gaze) "and I was clutching my purse just like this," (Rosa made a blatantly-obvious show of concealment and protection as she clutched her purse tightly under her arm, and slightly twisted her upper torso away from me to put the bulk of herself between me and her "treasures" (I chuckled again as she paused briefly). "And I stepped right off a curb that I did not see." She pantomimed her stunned shock as she described how she tumbled into the hospital driveway, losing her grip on her purse and spilling contents and coins literally everywhere. "I just sat there in the street, shocked!" she said. "And you know, the whole group of Gypsy men came rushing over to me, and they picked me up. Some of them made sure I was okay while others collected my purse and money from the street and gave them all back to me." She gave the most heart-breakingly earnest look as she said "And I have never felt so ashamed."

I laughed kindly and warmly reassured her that her feelings were understandable given the times and culture of the day. We boarded our shuttle van and buckled in for the ride across town. And on the drive home that day, and often since, I have reflected that Rosa's lesson-learned was clear, and honest, and beautifully delivered. I come to the hospital where I work every day to teach. And often I come to the hospital to heal myself. And once in a while thanks to fate, happenstance, and the wonderful people whom I work and share with, I even learn to teach and heal a little more beautifully.

Dueling Truths

It's fun because it's Almighty Truth! :D The Bible or Qur'an Game... by Whammo, presumably.