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  • deborah byron
    Dottie--I just read what you wrote about being hit by a car?!? What a strange scarey thing to have happen. Yes I do know what you mean about the tendency of
    Message 1 of 5 , Oct 3, 2004
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      Dottie--I just read what you wrote about being hit by a car?!? What a
      strange scarey thing to have happen. Yes I do know what you mean about
      the tendency of emergency workers and lots of other caregivers to become
      rather anesthetized themselves to the suffering they deal with--one way of
      coping but certainly not a very good way. A sign of burnout, I think.
      I've been on both sides of that fence myself.

      Just wanted to say take care and watch your back.

      Deborah
    • dottie zold
      ... Hey Deborah, something to share along the lines of watch your back : the last three digits in the license of the young lady who hit me are, 666. Isn t
      Message 2 of 5 , Oct 5, 2004
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        Deborah:
        > Just wanted to say take care and watch your back.

        Hey Deborah, something to share along the lines of 'watch your back':
        the last three digits in the license of the young lady who hit me
        are, 666. Isn't life interesting? Funny how signs do not really have
        any credibility and if anything can sometimes prove to others that
        someone is soft in the head. And with me, these kinds of signs happen
        all the time. Almost as if nature, as I have said before, ship shapes
        itself to bring about an understanding.

        My best,
        d
      • deborah byron
        Greetings Dottie--On the subject of strange coincidences....for awhile my monthly mortgage payment was exactly $666.00. At one point I just couldn t resist
        Message 3 of 5 , Oct 6, 2004
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          Greetings Dottie--On the subject of strange coincidences....for awhile my
          monthly mortgage payment was exactly $666.00. At one point I just couldn't
          resist drawing on the payment coupon a grinning little devil jabbing his
          pitchfork into a house. I was actually sorry when the amount changed.

          I'd like to tell you all a little story about Rodney Dangerfield, the
          American comedian who died last night.

          It was several years ago while waiting for a flight at an Arizona
          airport. Across the crowded aisles, I watched as a woman patiently
          encouraged her special-needs son to make the trip to the mens' room by
          himself--obviously something the young man was reluctant to do. It was
          taking a great deal of time and gentle persuasion for her to convince him
          he was really ready to make that journey unaccompanied. It was safe, I'm
          sure she told him--the doors are clearly marked, you can do it.

          Feeling the need to stretch my legs, I decided to make my way as well
          across the busy thoroughfare to the restroom. Approaching the entrance, I
          noticed from the corner of my eye that the young man had begun to lurch in
          the same direction. Being somewhat jet-lagged and distracted by the his
          awkward gait, I obliviously walked several steps right into the open
          doorway of the wrong restroom.

          With a jolt of embarrasment, as I almost collided with a startled
          businessman standing at the sink, I wheeled to make a hasty exit, only to
          come face to face with the unfortunate and bewildered young man now
          standing frozen at the threshold. I tell you, his expression of utter
          confusion is forever burned into my memory. All the patient work of that
          poor mother, destroyed in an instant.

          After a couple moments contemplating each other in wide-eyed horror, I
          quickly turned away, covering my face in an attempt to hide the fact that
          I was going to laugh. Stumbling across the busy concourse trying to
          regain my composure, the strangely familiar raspy voice of a passerby
          chuckled, "Way to go, babe." It was Dangerfield, of course, leering at me
          delightedly--probably the only person other than the boy's mother who had
          watched our surreal little disaster unfold.

          Truth be told, Rodney Dangerfield was never one of my favorite
          comedians--I tend to prefer scathing political satire to his particular
          sort of self-depricating humor. In the end, however, he did manage to
          spend most of his time in this world making people laugh. Not a bad life,
          I suppose, when all is said and done. Way to go, babe.
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