Dr. Mom

One child calls from the Pacific to tell me about a Dr. Sade who tried to pry hardened ear wax from her ear without first administering an anesthetic. I was imagining him, in his turn-of-the-century (20th) office holding her down on a bench with his right knee. Fortunately, she had the wherewithal to brush his hand away before he either punctured her ear drum or caused her excruciating pain. Needless to say, the ear incident isn’t quite over yet. And now she's gone off to Vietnam where we'll have no contact with her for two weeks. Two whole weeks! The other late night phone call came from the Atlantic side. Child claims she is dying from the flu, in a hotel room with ne'er a Nurse Nightingale in sight. It's past midnight there and she has to bribe the doorman to go to the nearest Walgreens in search of various cold remedies. her voice is weak and sickly enough to make my stomach turn. I know she will survive if she keeps the fever down and if she takes fluids. She doesn't always take my advice nor does she bother to call me back when she is feeling better. Ah, the price one pays for this not so medical degree!

Calgon, take me away...

No, really, take me away. I'm sitting here looking at someone's negative tax returns, realising that I'll need to do more work for this client, when a root canal would be easier. Easier for both of us. She lives on the other side of the country and doesn't actually keep my emails so that I'll have to explain all this, all over again in months to come. Annoying, to say the least.

Then, I'll answer the phone and tell them that HRH cannot take their call right now, but will return their call if they give a name and a phone number. Apparently, that is not something they want to share. I am going to contact the phone company, find out where they live and pay them a visit. Not!

Nor am I psychic. Sometimes It's hard to contain the sarcasm. It's hard to keep from telling the callers that no, the crysatl ball is kinda cloudy on Tuesdays, so, no, I will not be able to tell them to the minute when HRH will be available. Now, if they just give aname and a number...

Like Hell

So, my bones ache down into their very core. Two days ago I spent less than three hours helping a friend pack her books and some othe stuff. I don't remember lifting a lot of boxes, but my muscles feel as if they had a work out. I bet if that doctor on Oprah got a hold of me, he'd say I had the body of a 70-year old. Actually, it would probably be closer to 80 seeing as my friend's sister was the one who actually lifted all the boxes I packed to store them in the garage. I remember advising her that one was particularly heavy - it was full of hard backs - and she said it weighed nothing compared to what she herself had packed earlier. She whizzed past me carrying box after box from bedroom to garage. This woman is 68 years old, and a smoker.
Today, I walked to the mailbox, the far one, near the post office, in an affort to resume my daily walking habit. I feel like hell.

You know you're slipping when...

You know you're slipping when it takes 12 hours to process an event. Something didn't sit right me with me after I returned from the neighbor's. There was this anxious feeling that a glass of merlot wouldn't wash away. It wasn't until 6 o'clock in the morning I realized that the reason I had this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach was because my neighbor had pulled a fast one on me and I had (unknowingly) gone along with it.
When I thrashed out these events with HRH, he agreed that something hadf gone down that wasn't exactly kosher. The thing is that the milk has spilled and there is nothing that can be done now. I just have to remind myself that I need to be on guard around this neighbor and expect the unexpected. People aren't always as they seem.

It's hard

Do something hard everyday. By that, they mean that you should challenge yourself and push through the pain. I tried that this past week and I am happy to report that the ground didn't open up and swallow me whole. Yes, I survived and now all I have to do is repeat it this week. Wash, rinse, repeat.Just like doing your hair.

Today, I have challenged myself to cook dinner and bring it to a grieving widow's house. The challenge is not in the cooking but in the bringing. Ringing that doorbell will be hard. Standing on the doorstep waiting for the door to open - hard. Uttering meaningful words, dropping the food and exiting quickly - hard.

Words

Sometimes it's hard to write. It's hard to collect ones thoughts and spit them out in some sort of meaningful language. Words don't seem to come as easily anymore. They don't line up meekly at the gate, like sheep, waiting to be let out to pasture. They lay hidden in the fodder bins, under piles and piles of moldy hay.