Two Things

Here you go:

1. Becky Smith (of "Smithellaneous" fame) linked my rather lengthy account of the engaging of our two offspring to her highly acclaimed blog. She encouraged her many readers to indulge us both by taking in every last word.

They did just that! And many left comments. (Comments are like sweet nectar to the hummingbird-heart of every blogger.) I eagerly clicked on the comment section and found that "Bec" from SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA had read my post.

(Now, I would have supposed that Bec was visiting a friend in TN or NC or FL but she said - right on her comment - ".....here I sit in Sydney (my emphasis), reading the story and tears are running down my face......")

I've always been curious about Australia and have dreamed about visiting some day. How amazing that through technology, my words have gotten there and have even elicited emotion! Wow!!

Thanks Bec for your kind comment!



2. To all my dear friends in the medical world:

• Thank you for your hard work and diligence!
• Thank you for studying and staying informed!
• Thank you for genuinely caring about your patients!

However -

• The rest of us do not have your experience nor your frame of reference.
• Even the smallest of outpatient procedures can seem frightening to us.
• If it involves: scalpels, needles, or nakedness be assured, I'm NOT comfortable! Smile.

I found myself the unwilling participant in just such a procedure Friday. Anxiety had built through the week and by Thursday evening, I was closing in on all out panic. We left for the hospital before daybreak Friday; completed all the necessary checking-in; then moved to the pre-surgery waiting area.

I should have suspected trouble when ten minutes before my procedure was scheduled to begin, they still hadn't called me back.

Frank walked to the desk and requested information.

"Oh, we thought Mrs. Hawley was already back here!" Not a good sign AT ALL!!

"Everything is okay, Mrs. Hawley. We'll get you right in. Just step into this freezer we call a bathroom. Take off every article of camouflage clothing. Put on this paper thin fabric we call a gown (leaving you totally exposed in the hinder parts). Walk out here where all the other terrified patients can stare at you. And oh, by the way, even though you've had nothing to drink since midnight - tinkle in this cup, won't you?"

SIGH! And again I say - S.I.G.H.!!

I never knew that inability to comply with such a simple request could leave me feeling like such a failure.

The knock at the door (like I was TWO) nearly reduced me to tears...... like a two year old. I had to shiver my way over to a gurney, get hooked up to an IV bag, and WAIT.

Someone asked if I wanted my husband to come back which helped. But you can totally hear when people stand by those curtains and softly say things like, "I know. I know! We are still waiting."

And it does NOT help when you step in and say things like, "Being nervous usually makes us want to go sooner!" "Did you try turning on the water?" "You've taken on half a bag of fluid, Mrs. Hawley." "The kidneys produce fluid even when we don't think they do!"

The final straw was the red-haired, male tech who peeked in while clutching the two curtains to either side of his pointy face and offered this comment in a sing-song voice, "Still haven't been able to tinkle, Mrs. Hawley?!"

If I'd had a metal bed pan, I would have hit him square in the head!

Well, success was finally mine. We moved on to the procedure room where someone gave me something that had me sound asleep in two point seven seconds. (Does that come in an over the counter form?!)

Lunch time found me home, cuddling on the couch with Gracie, enjoying copious quantities of doting by my precious husband.

And I guess that if it made you laugh out loud, it was worth it! Smile.