Tuesday, September 27, 2011

An "Ordinary" Day

As I pull out of the hospital parking lot, all the errands that need done this late afternoon are rushing around in my head. Which do I do first?  If I do such-an-such first, then the other place might be closed.  Oh my!  I'm running late.  Why was today like today?

I hate running errands after work.

I love going straight home to the comfort and solitude of my  house.  I need a  time of quiet  - of rest.  You know - hit the couch and put my feet up before I face the evening. 

A block from the hospital there he is . . . . . . 
the squirrel.

Squirrel:  (in the middle of the street, frantically and fearfully darting here and there)   “Help.  I need to cross the street.  I think?  Don’t I?  Please!” 
Me:  I slow down  - literally almost to a stop -  since it’s obvious HE can’t decide which way to go.  

Besides, I’ve had a rough long day and I somehow understand how he must feel. 
SquirrelMaybe this way?  No – that side’s closer.  No – this side.
Me“Oh for Pete sake!  Just make a decision and go for it!!”
Squirrel “Whew.  I made it”
Me:  Poor thing.  HE’s just diligently preparing for what’s coming. 
Hmmm!  Am I as diligently preparing for what’s coming?   
For tomorrow, for next week, for the rest of my life.

or am I frantically and fearfully running here & there?

Girl number 1
Me:  “for Marvin Macy.  I need 30 bags of whatever he wrote here.  I'm sorry, I can’t read it”
Girl1  immediately starting to peck at the computer keys in front of her
Me (astonished)  “You can read it . . . . . . ?    
Girl1: “Yes. . . . . . . here, do you want this note back.”  (smiling, she continues with a twinkle in her eye) “The one you can’t read?”  
Me:  “Naw”.  ( I wished I’d kept it and scanned it into this writing.  You’d see what I have to put up with.) 
Girl1: (suddenly, startling me, yelling loudly back into the dark hole)  “30 bags of cattle creep feed, please!”
Creep man in dark hole:  “WHAT???  30 bags??” 
Girl1: “YES!!”
I see him shrugging and heading further into the dark hole to the depths where they apparently keep  the ‘creep’ stuff.   
Me:  “Do I back up around the corner there?”
Girl1:  “Wherever.  It doesn’t matter

Girl number 2
Me:  (walking around the extended cab pick-up of Marvin’s that I’ve only driven twice)  “How do I get the back doors open.  There has to be a latch, doesn’t there?”
Girl2standing there calmly with $134/worth of groceries, obviously enjoying being outside in the 80 degrees.  Looking up toward the sun, closing her eyes,  soaking up the sun.  She knows I'm just talking to myself.  Problem solving out loud, as I usually do.  
Me:  (walking around the truck again)  “Suppose we should just put the groceries in the back with the feed?”  ( I really want to say "with the creep feed" and freak her out, just for the fun of it)
Girl2:  “Should I tie all the bags shut so nothing blows out?”
Me:  (walking around the truck for the 3rd time now and attempting to open everything I can see.  Trying to pull seats forward.)   “Do you have any idea how to open the little door back here?  Which side opens, do you suppose?”
Girl2in a little sing-song voice – “W-e l-l-l . . . . . I don’t touch trucks, but  - there is usually a little button to push that opens those doors”
Me:  “Really?  Where?”
Girl2:  “W e l- l -l  . . . . let’s see.  OH!  <giggle>  there it is.”  (as she points with one arched manicured finger)  “Right there.  See where it says “U”  - for unlock.  Press it.  I don’t touch trucks”.
Me:  “You’re kidding?  There?   Why there?” as I press it.   (Click – the back door on the passenger side opens.)  “Why can’t the door open on this side?  Why on the other side?”  (talking to myself again)
Me:  (As I’m forced to walk around the truck for the 4th time – and she walks around it for the first)    “That’s weird.  Wouldn’t you think I should be able to open the passenger door with the keyless remote?”    
Girl2:  “Do you want the heavy stuff on the floor?”
Me:  (Totally flustered about having made a scene in the parking space closest to the store.  I’m thinking ‘I never get to park this close any other time.  Why now?’ 
I calmly respond:  “Wherever.  It doesn’t matter
What a long and interesting day. 
There has been some profound sadness today as there often is in the healthcare field.

There has been some laughter as someone reminds me;  "the last time you wore that shirt to work you had it on wrong-side out."     

Weighing on my mind is one of my blogger friends, Sara Frankl – who I’ve followed for a year or so.  She died this week at the age of 38.  Her blogs have been such an inspiration to me.  Why, Lord?  Why? 
Also, is the fact that a friend is in surgery - right now.  At least 2 cardiologists have told her she could not possibly survive this surgery.  She's younger than me!!  Her only chance of survival WAS surgery.  
So many emotions.  I'm exhausted. 
All I want is to get in that truck (that I no longer want to touch) and let the country roads take me 18 miles away.    
And the answer this time is NOT :
               “Wherever.  It doesn’t matter.” 
This time it does matter! 

I want to go home.   

I need to concentrate & think about what God - through Sara Frankl - has been trying to teach me these last few years of her blogging life.  Forced to leave her journalistic career, due to illness, and confined to her home (literally unable to leave her own house for the last 3 years), her message has always been:
                                                            "Choose Joy"

No comments:

Post a Comment