Of course I don't enjoy the needle sticks and other tests (especially the "southend probe" as our president had to endure this past weekend ), but I try to not whine and hope that some improvement in my health can be expected after the results come back.
Last week I went for a test at a hospital out of town. I was told to go into this restroom and remove all of my clothes, don this good-looking gown and enter the room across the hall.
What really put me into a bad mood was not the disrobing, but having to do it while holding my clothes; there was not the first hook -- not even a nail on any wall in that restroom. The commode did not have a lid on it, the sink was wet and an open trash can was almost full of Lord know what, so I juggled my shirt and slacks in one hand while trying to jerk my undershirt and shorts off and stuff them into my pockets. How I treaded myself into that gown and tied it behind me, holding on to my things, I'll never figure out, but it got completed.
I'd bet that that ultrasound rig that they used on me cost a few thousand bucks. Why couldn't they go ahead and "shoot the moon" with a 39 cent plastic hook and nail it to the wall?
When I entered the "testing room", the technician of course asked how I was feeling. I tried to keep from showing my frustration by replying that I was tired since I had stayed up late the night before"studying for that test". I think she had heard that cute remark before...
I did tell her to drop a note into the suggestion box about my peeve. No response.
When my bill comes, would it be a good idea for me to inform them that I will be happy to pay after they get those hooks installed?-- or deduct 39 cents and bring my own hook the next time I have to be tested?
Patient satifaction -- some folks gripe about waiting, some can't stand the food, I just want a clothes hook.
Isn't strange how a simple task can reward you with a golden memory?
Yesterday I sat on my deck snapping a big sack of string beans. I thought back to the early years of my life and the wonderful summers that I shared with my two sisters and a neighood of good friends.
We never had much luck with a garden, so Mother went to the curb market about three mornings a week for fresh vegetables. It was my job, under the supervision of my oldest sister, to shell peas or butterbeans and shuck corn each morning. I'll admit that it didn't make me happy when I had to turn down "the gang" to play baseball, but the noon meal always made up for the playtime delay.
We had fried corn a lot, and I've never eaten any since that had the same aroma and flavor. I can't cook it that way for sure.
These memories all come together to remind me, at this time of the Fourth of July, that we all are so blessed to live in America, and to have the life, the families, the friends and the memories of growing up in a place of no wars and fears.
Let's hope that America will always remain this way.
Since last Thursday, when the news broke about the California judges' ruling, there has been a great deal on TV and editorials in practically every newspaper generally opposing the removal of the phrase "under God" from the Pledge of Allegiance by students in our public schools.
I can't think of anything to say that hasn't been said already. My first thought, when I heard about it, was "Well, that's another shovel of dirt thrown on God..." Have you noticed that Hollywood has just about abandoned any type movie with any religious theme? If the trend continues, the atheists will outnumber Christians and Jews and those left with any desire to worship God will have to do so in caves and cellars.
Somehow our "freedoms" have helped the American people to outsmart themselves.
Here's a little story that John D. Wootten shared with Barbara and me.
A young man was pushing his dad about wanting to drive.
The father struck a deal with him. "Do something constructive, like read the Bible... and get your hair cut," he told the lad.
The boy did, indeed, read the Bible from the front to the back.
After he finished he pointed out to the father that there were many prophets in the Old Testament.
"...and you know, Dad, they all had long hair."
"You're right, son," replied the father, "and they walked everywhere..."