- 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.
> 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.
- 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.