LitaWrites (real_lawyer) wrote,

Tossed Salad Friday

~~ Yesterday, I had a nosebleed that wouldn't stop for hours — I was gagging on my blood. We went to the hospital (my husband drove) in the midst of a blinding snowstorm. Of course, the blood ceased at the hospital before anyone saw me except the payment person. The PA didn't see any cuts and sent me home. He said it's common with dry heat and cold, but I was hoping they'd cauterize it or something so I didn’t have to worry about it happening again. However, with car accidents and strokes occupying the hospital’s staff during this storm, I was a low-priority patient. Which I guess is the best kind next to being a non-patient.

~~ During my ER stay, I sat on a bed in full view of a man and a woman who were hospital staff members. As the PA is asking me about possible causes such as falls, collisions, head trauma, and nose picking, the woman is chatting on the phone while mining her nostrils like there was buried treasure inside. The weather outside was frightful, but the scene insight was not delightful.

~~ The woman in the diner asks the server, “How's your chocolate pudding?" The answer was, “Pretty good, I’d imagine. I don’t eat sugar or chocolate.”

~~ About one-third of the way into a yoga class, the instructor directs the class into a pose where we gaze up and past our armpits. She exclaims, “Oh, lord! I was wearing a new sweatshirt and my pits are all fuzzy! Why didn’t anyone tell me I looked like I had man pits?” I’d venture to say most of us noticed, but what can you do? You can’t shout out, “Um, teach, you have black stuff under your arms,” can you?

~~ Fuse-blowing moment: when you come in from the Arctic weather and all you want is a cup of hot tea before you tackle the laundry, but there’s a very large woman from Dementia-ville both blocking your access to the hot water and washing her clothes without asking first.

~~ A regular morning yoga class I attend had a no-show teacher, and so I returned home. I was about 75 minutes earlier than the aide expected me, I guess, as there was a wailing coming from Dementia-ville that was both jarring and chilling.
I hovered outside the door until I confirmed that the yowling was not from the patient, and then I set about to make conversation with my dogs. The volume lowered… I chatted with my buddies some more… and the shrieking ceased. I don’t know if she was listening to some ritualistic chants or the vocals of a Martian scat singer, but even my contact lenses recoiled in horror at the sound.

~~ I look at the patient residing in Dementia-ville and I see the arc of a life. She started in a fetal position, oblivious to the world, and has ended up the same way, curved inward and (seemingly) unaware. It’s no wonder I hear Peggy Lee singing, “Is that all there is…?”

~~Last, but not least (or maybe so):

Happy 2018 (I hope). Dasvidaniya. Have a safe, warm weekend!
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