I'm Still Mom

So much is happening - most of it around me, not TO me. In the last 5 days, my daughter has written and called to ask if she could come home because of an incident at work that made her afraid her termination was imminent. She was a upset - and adamant that she had done nothing wrong. I know my daughter…she can be hell on wheels when she wants to be, but this time she sounded heartbroken. She’s the new girl in the clinic and she gets along with everybody except 1 woman, whom I gather doesn’t get along with anybody else, either. Well. The incident involved that 1 woman.

My daughter was teary, but composed, instead of the nervous wreck she usually is when something is going wrong. “If I’m suspended or fired, I won’t be able to pay my rent, and can I come home if I need to. I’ll pay rent, abide by whatever rules you give me..”

Well, of course, if she needs to come home, she can.

She told me how much she loves her job - it has always been her dream to work where she’s working, in some capacity. She loves the patients. She loves what she does in the clinic. She likes all her co-workers, except that 1 woman. And now, because of that 1 woman, her dream was over. She told me how, she will miss everybody there, and how her boss made her type an apology (wrong answer - a typed apology is an admission of guilt, but she was told she had to write it or be terminated on the spot).

The next day, I worried. Her boss was supposed to give my daughter the decision she had made in reference to her employment. I heard nothing all day. All evening, I waited for The Call. But there was nothing. I worried some more. It must be really bad if she couldn’t even talk about it, because Beth talks about EVERYthing that’s on her mind, no holds barred. And so - on the way home from the grocery run, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I whipped out the cell phone.

She answered, cheery and light. Man, give me some of what SHE’S taking.

She told me - Mom, people I don’t even KNOW were telling me - You aren’t going anywhere. You’re staying here. One woman invited her to go to her church because she had been watching Beth and said, “You have a great spirit. I’ve watched you and I’ve seen that, and I really want you to come to our church.” A janitor approached her and told her, “It’ll be all right, you’ll see.” and a co-worker told her - “You didn’t hear this from me, but you have friends in high places. Someone of Importancehas taken up your cause and has had a conference with your boss.”

And Beth told me - “Mom, I never dreamed these people thought so much of me. I had NO idea, and if I do get fired, I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing I made a good impression and friends I didn’t even know about. They are so wonderful.”

Ah, there it was. The opening for what I had wanted to say to her. If she had been suspended, she had planned to quit. But I knew how much she loved her job and the people there - that doesn’t come along every day. And I had that once, in a place where I was allowed to work up to potential, and had given and received the respect to and from every person in that facility. You don’t just walk away from that unless you’re stupid - like me - because it’s rare and you should hang on to it, no matter what you have to endure.

I told her - Your Duke is my Hoke. Unless they terminate you, girl, hang on to it, because you may never find it again.

:-) She said she would.

And that same night, she called me back in tears and was talking in a trembly whisper - “Mom…”

Oh my god, what???

“Someone is shooting outside my apartment.” And about that time, I heard it. A gunshot. There was a brief pause, another gunshot, and my daughter said..”I want to come HOME.”

Mom mode kicked in. “Are you on the floor?” Yes. “Where in the apartment are you?” In the bedroom. NO NO NO, the bedroom faces the back, where the gunshots were coming from. “CRAWL to the bathroom, girl - DON’T get up! Crawl!” I don’t have a cordless phone, I’ll have to hang up. “That’s perfectly ok - call me back when the police get there.”

And so I waited and trembled. A half hour passed. No word. Finally, the phone rang.

“Whew. You know, all the police did was ride by and shine a light. Mom, I WANT to come HOME. I don’t think I can take this town anymore.”

For all my arguments that she should stay in the job she loves, I have to agree with her. My heart had almost stopped pounding and I’m sure she was still trembling because I was, a little. And I have come to the conclusion that, if she does move home, both of us will be in better health because  - her in Durham? That’s going to be the death of me.

Rambling away

i am home today because the boss is afraid of me.  that's right - she sent me home because she doesn't want my germs, and that's ok with me, but GOD it is so quiet, except for the sound of the keys clicking and Rosie snoring.  And every now and then, Coot scratches her ears.  Whaat a racket.

quiet is good for reflection.  there are a lot of people running around my memory today, and what stands out most is how fortunate i have been to know them.  Dr. H, the neatest psychologist i have ever met:  I would have stayed home today, but honeybunch had a list of chores a mile long.  Do you hear that incessant bellowing coming from D-seg?  Sounds like a Gregorian chant.  Anita the Nurse - There's some bad business going on in THIS cubby hole.  Mama told there'd be days like this.  And who could forget Ava?  If I wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it.  Do you understand?

My golly, the character list goes on longer than Marley's chains.  They belong somewhere.  But...where???

Certainly in my memory, and in my heart.  But there has to be a way to keep them going, make them immortal.

A while back, there was a nurse who came to work with us.  There was something different about her, and I couldn't put my finger on it, in the beginning.  At that time, I was having some brilliant psychic flashes - but I think it was more the location.  Your intuition becomes finely honed when you need it most.  Back then, I could tell a decompensating psych patient by walking past him with his back towards me from the vibes he gave off.  Always dead-on the money. The psychologists learned to take me seriously when I approached them about a patient.  But there was something about this one nurse...

One day, I approached her in the nurses station and blurted out - Are you an empath?

She looked at me like I belonged in the treatment room.  And so I hastily explained - Well, empaths are people who pick up vibes from others, strongly. You might say they have psychic abilities.  She continued to look confused, so I stammered my way out of the station, feeling like a complete fool.  Ah well, nothing ventured, nothing discovered.

She followed me out on my lunch break.  She was very friendly, so I was grateful she didn't think I was a complete lunatic, and she said to me - Other people won't understand, so you have to be careful who you tell.

Wow.  Dead-on.  Again.  I was getting good at this vibe thing.

When I left that position, she gave me a crystal and a cherokee rose.  The crystal was to protect me and give me clarity.  The cherokee rose was for what it represented.  How she knew I like crystals and rose rocks, well.  I think that's obvious.

But clarity eludes me - especially after losing the crystal.  I have all these wonderful characters to model from, and don't know what the HECK to do with them.

Besides love them.  Maybe that's enough.

Reading the News

I hate reading the news anymore.  It's full of awful, real-life tragedies, a good reminder that all is not well in the world.  Unspeakable things that happen to children or the elderly or ...everybody in between.  Senseless act that are unthinkable to the likes of those who cannot fathom...and then there are the statistical stories that raise debate.

One of our local television stations has an online site that allows comments on the stories.  Some of those stories have ignited a lynch-mob mentality in the general public.  For instance, the cops set up 10 cameras inside a church because folks in the congregation had noted a 74-year-old man stealing from the collection plate.  He did it - they caught him on all 10 of the cameras.  I wonder if he was senile.  I wonder if he was eating cat food. You have to wonder - did anyone in the church approach him about the matter.  And everybody wondered if these 10 cameras would have been of better use somewhere else.  Opinion ranged from - he stole, he's guilty.  Fry him - to What Would Jesus Do?

And then there was a statistical story that stated - inmates live longer than people who are not in prison.  Well, I can understand that.  They do get superb medical care (you know I'm going off on this one, don't you?) at the tax-payers' expense, but they're human, too, and of course they'll get care.  The public was upset about this report - mainly because a lot of the population cannot afford the same medical care - and some woman piped in - Well, if they work, they pay their doctor's bills, their transportation, and for the bag lunch they take with them on the trip. Facts is facts.

I'm thinking she's a relative of someone in prison who is writing to ask her to deposit money into his trust-fund account so he can cover his bills, because regardless - the most an inmate is charged for his medical care IF he doesn't have a chronic disease is 7 bucks for the initial nurse's sick call (no charge for chronic disease).  If he or she is referred to the physician or PA, they're seen for free.  And the transportation costs for outside appointments and all related care  fall on the state, as does the lunch provided every day.  The woman is being bilked.  Too bad I couldn't enlighten her, but I like my job.

But the story made me think about the ones who don't live longer than those out of prison, and what makes the public resent where their tax dollars are going.  When I worked for nursing, there was a young man who was in need of a GI consult.  It was approved by UR, and I called to set up the appointment - no less than 8 times.  I spoke with a woman who told me I had to schedule that with the physician, and he was only in on certain days.  So I called.  He was out.  He was in surgery.  He didn't return my calls.  And when I did get up with him, he didn't want to talk to me because I was only a secretary who couldn't give him the clinical information that was in the chart.  No, don't fax me the records.  I want to talk with your doctor.  Great.  It so happened her days at our unit did not coincide with his days in.  But she tried, repeatedly for a week.  And one day shortly after that, the nurse called me and said - If you don't get Mr. X an appointment, he's going to be d-e-a-d dead.

God.  That's a heck of a thing to lay on someone who, in the opinion of the Great GI Doctor at the prestigious outside medical facility, cannot read a chart.  I panicked.  I did not want to be responsible for someone being d-e-a-d dead.  I called the PA and told her - I've tried, they don't return calls, you know they want to talk to you  and YOU can't even contact them.  Can you send him somewhere else?  She could, she thought...and so it was on the phone to UR and I told Jane - If we can't change this man's appointment location, he's going to be d-e-a-d dead.

She allowed us to change it.  He had an appointment scheduled for the next day.  But it was too late. It was too late, actually, before he ever transferred in to our unit or came to prison.  He had a large pancreatic mass that was malignant.

And then I think about the ones who are bilking their family out of money by saying - if I don't have this much money, I won't get medical care.  The ones that drink 3 cups of hot coffee right before declaring a medical emergency and the nurse pokes a thermometer in his mouth, and the ones who sue because they can.  The ones who have every medical test known to man - and they're all negative - because they don't want to work road squad, the ones who deliberately inflict self-injury so they can set up a law suit and not have to work after they release from prison. and the ones who come right out and say - Well, aslong as I'm in prison, I might as well take advantage of it and get my medical needs met.  Because on the street, like most of us, they can't afford it, otherwise.  And then there are the really sick ones who don't try to sue and don't complain as much as the well ones.  All they want is to get better.

There are those who take advantage of the system, and THAT is something to resent.  There are those whose lives are saved because health care is provided, and there are those who don't fall into the above-mentioned statistical report because nothing can save them. 

I guess I'm all thought out now.

the other ice queen returneth

although i wouldn't call me a queen.  i have spent the last couple of weeks playing bingo - morning, noon, night, midnight...and it has been fun, but too much of a good thing sure can ruin it.  at one point, i was clicking my dots and suddenly had the overwhelming urge to burst into tears.  that's when i knew it was time to get up OUTTA here or do something different.

one thing i'll say about the bingo rooms online - the folks are exceptionally polite.  another thing is - the abbreviated chat lingo is something else to catch on to.  for instance:

(chat room)
wtg, winnners!
ty, glng (thank you, good luck next game)
yvw. gl2u2 (you're very welcome.  good luck to you, too!)
ngcu - gl2a  (next game coming up, good luck to all!)

i thought i was catching on pretty well, and was mightily impressed with everyone's good manners, after having witnessed the aol chats and message boards.  so one morning, very early, i logged in to play bingo.

gma, gl!  (good morning, all.  good luck!)
and then, this person said to me...

ty,  u2 mf

i was like - WHAT did you call me?

and then i noticed she was calling everyone mf.  and they were ok with it. so instead of meaning what it NORMALLY means, i surmise and choose to believe it can be translated as My Friend.

this last few weeks have been full of surprises.  for instance, at work, we had a pet take up residence outside the fence - a goat!  he (or she) was a beautiful animal, and folks were carrying on conversations with it.  they baaaed at it, and baaaed back.  we were just short of naming it when someone came and set a goat trap and caught the little fella.  shoot.

And then, one fine morning, i walked into the lobby at work to find 1.  a dog.  2.  two long tables surrounded by officers.  i was instructed to step to the side, let the dogs sniff me (which it did, and i passed inspection), and THEN we all had to empty our pockets, remove our jackets, TAKE OFF OUR SHOES and show the bottoms of our feet to the officers.  i have officially been interdicted. we all have.

and i opened a letter that was addressed to me from the department of correction, half expecting them to tell me i can no longer carry my life in my pockets during strip searches and son of a gun - it said something like this:

We are pleased to inform you that funds have been freed and your salary is being increased by 1,303 per year. 

i gasped.  i couldn't talk.  ms. horton, watching in apprehension from her desk, said - Oh my GOD, what's wrong?  i snatched up the identical letter addressed to her, flung it in her face and gasped - READ IT!!

and then we did the office dance of joy and laughed for about 15 minutes.  no, it's not much...but it's an unexpected "raise".  :-D

and since all that, i have been bored out of my mind, so i have decided to join a gym, take a self-defense course, join the fire department and take EMT training.  that should keep me busy for a few minutes.

have a wonderful week.

The Ice Queen Returneth

It was the coldest day of winter, so far.  It was sleeting.  Rain was freezing on surfaces.  I was cozily and contentedly sipping a cup of Vacation Vanilla coffee with a sprinkle of cinnamon to jazz it up a bit and indulging in my new addiction/passion - Online Bingo - when there came a knock on the door.  And so, I reluctantly put down my mug and left what was surely my Winning Card to answer.

Something breezed past my ankles and made a jangling noise as it swept past.

"I'm back."  And there she was, dragging my favorite and missing bracelet.

"Rosie!"  I cried.  "Where have you been?"

"Out seeing the world. Frankly, I don't like what's out there right now.  You never told me about this stuff called ice.  And I'm starving.  You humans might think mice are a tasty feast to us, but I wouldn't have one of those nasty little things if it was called Chicken of the Woods and came deboned in a pop-top can.  And I've heard rumors - Is it true that The Boy has left home?"

I just knew she would be crushed to find out Dale was gone, and tried to break the truth of it gently to her.

"Yes...he's a married man now, Rosie - but it doesn't mean he doesn't love you anymore.  He'll be back for visits."

"That means his room is free, doesn't it?  Let's see what you've done with it."

She streaked down the hall, ice melting from her coat, leaving tiny puddles on the linoleum, and inspected the room.

"Hmm.  There's not a decorative bone in your body, is there?" She jumped onto the bed, leaned back and said - "Ok, here's the deal.  I want pillows.  Lots of them, in bright colors - or pink will be fine.  And I happened to spy that new jewelry box on your dresser as I passed your room - nice lid.  But useless.  I want it.  It will look nice in here.  Oh, and the walls need pictures.  Nature scenes, I think.  And one of me, right there on the widest part of the wall.  In the meantime, I could really use something to eat.  Would you get that for me?"

I shook my head and did what Slaves do for their Feline Queens - went to prepare her dinner.  But as I walked away, I heard her say...

"Nice room.  It has possibilities.  and...it's MINE now."

OWIE, OUCH, DOGGONE IT!

Good morning!  The last week has been a busy one, and I have considered changing the name of my blog to Life As An Empty-Nester. 

I went into the New Year making the adjustment - Christmas was too busy to notice much that there were no longer kids in the house - and so, by January 2, I was feeling kind of lost.  What do I do now?

And so, I did laundry.  Oddly enough, everything is clean...I washed dishes.  Oddly enough, there is not a mountain of them.  I cooked.  Oddly enough, Spike and You were very happy with the leftovers - a bounty they had never had before.

The couch is clear - no clothes draped all over it.  The counters are spotless, the fridge is clean, and yesterday, because there was little else to do, I engaged in some heavy duty cleaning.  It felt like spring, so...why the heck not.  I'm talking walls.  Baseboards.  And I know you find all this absolutely fascinating and I should just type on and on about the tiny details of my household adventures, but...you know what i found out...

1.  My son was a real slob when he lived here, and he had more clothing than the men's department at Belk's.

2.  I'm way out of shape.  There is not a muscle in my body that isn't screaming - you dumb broadaway!  you haven't used us since you left the Real Prison, and suddenly you jump into action.  You deserve to hurt!

Must be time to join a gym.