On Call Blues

Ok, I'm still consumed by this six word memoir concept. Here are some I came up with (among others that were not so nice) in the wee hours this morning after being awakened from deep slumber at 1:35 AM.......

"Care giving endlessly, day and night"

"Pissed, outraged, unforgiving; doctor in trouble"

"Hiding my anger; steaming and stewing"

What was going on last night? When I'm on call, my pager sleeps with me, turned to vibrate mode and clips either to the pants of my pajamas or to the top of the nightgown, depending on the situation. I could keep it on my night table but when it goes off on the hardwood, it makes a horrible jangling sound that startles me into alertness. This choice of mine to wear the pager to bed is less disruptive, but only slightly. No one likes to be awakened in the night.

At 1:35 AM comes the text page: Please call Mr. "xyz", transplant patient lost meds at airport, needs them urgently.

What insanity is this?

He: "Oh doctor, thanks for calling. How are you?" (asking me how I am at this time of day is one of the dumbest questions in the universe and is also my opportunity to be honest; after all, he asked, didn't he?)

Me: "Well, Mr. "xyz", I was sleeping."

He: "Oh, sorry doctor......(but not really). The situation is that I'm in the Miami airport, little spring break trip with the family and the airline lost my luggage. I had my meds in there and now I don't have them and they don't know where my bag is; could be anywhere from Fort Lauderdale to Jacksonville. I wasn't sure if I could go that long without them. What should I do? I'm sure it'll be hard to find an all night pharmacy around here...."

I'm thinking....what is rule #1? Never, EVER, put your medications in your luggage! I thought everyone knew this. Not. And you, a transplant recipient, what are you thinking????

Me: "Well, it's not the end of the world. You can actually miss a few doses without anything serious happening. We don't advertise that fact but it's true. Mr. "xyz", please call me by noon today if you haven't received your luggage and we'll work on finding a pharmacy in Miami on a Sunday that stocks these specialty meds." (This can be a tall order; they are not your everyday drugs but hey, Miami is a big city.)

This is the short version. He was long winded and had lots of questions. I was professional and reassuring. I wanted to bite his head off. There is often a huge disconnect between what I think and what I say in these settings. Bury it, Kate; bury it.

And then I hang up and start to stew. I toss, turn, and rail against the insanities. I think I've heard every midnight phone call under the sun until I hear the next one; there will always be a new variation out there to challenge my patience and good nature.

In case you think I'm a total turd, most late night and early morning calls are legitimate; perhaps they could have been made sooner or perhaps they could wait until first light of day but usually they don't cause me this much angst. This one got me though and good. Cost me at least 90 minutes of slumber before I talked myself back to sleep.

What will it be tonight? I'm carrying this pager for another few days. One never, ever knows and that's what makes this as unpredictable as a rabid dog in heat.

More 6 Word Memoirs

I lay awake last night, on call, interrupted by pages from the hospital and pondered more six word memoirs. Sadly, I didn't take the time to write them down; many were quite creative, some funny, some bittersweet, and some just plain dumb.

How about some of these? There could be a memoir a day at this rate....six words is challenging in some ways but easy in others.

Born in Aruba, living in Seattle. (the original title to my blog)

Tenaciously keeping ahead of the wave.

Striving for happiness, settling for life.

Worrying and fretting through my days.

Plucking intermittent joy from the clouds.

Dreaming of calm, tolerating the bumps.

Six Word Memoir

Tagged by my sister at Rockbridge Times to write a six word memoir, I read the NPR article describing the challenge and took a stab at the task. "Don't overthink it" was the advice. Ok, I won't.

"Finding my voice, following my heart."

circa 1972; Ithaca, NY

Out of Town

This is "spring break" week for Denny. Amidst all the commotion of March (see March Madness post) we decided a few days together out of town would offer a chance to disconnect from stressors coming at us from all angles. We are settling into the slowed down pace of a small resort town on Whidbey Island, during mid-week with stormy skies, chilly breezes and the intermittent sprinkle. The Inn at Langley is a great spot to unwind; providing comforts (like wonderful bedding, fireplace, and views of the Sound) as well as connections to the outside world (like TV, cell reception, and Internet capability). Paradoxically, I find my relaxation deeper if I'm not stressing about being 'out there' where no one can reach me. To many, getting beyond the cell phone/beeper range sounds rather nice but for me it's not an option right now. This environment is perfect; I can be reached if needed but left alone to enjoy the quiet tranquility and dose myself with the real world at times of my own choosing. Love it. This is a veiw from our deck at low tide; earlier today the water covered the grey sand beach.

Still hobbling about on my right leg keeps me from exploring the environs much although we did manage to visit a winery today and bought a few bottles of white. Otherwise we are reading and in my case, blogging, eating good food, drinking good wine, talking and resting. This afternoon comes the spa treatments which are indulgent and glorious. I keep saying: "I need this; I need this".

While in the local grocery store today, replete with wonderful and unusual organic and other tasty items, we ordered vegetarian sandwiches to go. I also saw this small item at the check-out counter and was reminded that only two days ago in "Notes to Self", I could have really used these. Priced so sensibly at $0.39, how dare I do without? I certainly won't need these here but they will come in handy later and are not only purse sized but packaged attractively as well. Oh my.

Notes to Self

1. Buy some of those small, purse-size packages of kleenex. Yes, the type old ladies carry in their handbags just in case.....thank God I still don't need to buy the plastic rain hat yet, although I have a friend who already does and you know who you are. :)

2. Don't apply too much mascara; perhaps none at all just now.

3. Don't listen to ballads by Whitney Houston while driving to work and especially not "I'll Always Love You".

These tears of mine come from a fountain that is just below the surface, anxious to spring forth with the slightest provocation. I am frequently caught off-guard, unprepared, and overwhelmed by the pain exuding from the lives of my beloved parents and my thoughts are focused constantly on that place, unless I'm distracted. That fact coupled with a healthy dose of not wanting to go to work today after 3 weeks away from the grind made my ride through downtown streets in traffic rather "wet" despite a brilliant orb of light in the morning sky.

This too shall pass.

Earth's Own Congregation

Earth's Own Congregation
by Danna Faulds

I am received by earth's own
congregation into a green
sanctuary with no need of
walls or vaulted ceiling.

Embodied spirit celebrates
rebirth, each creature offering
its uniqueness to the whole.

How can I possibly feel separate
when nature dances with me
on the grass--the nodding tulips
and small azure moths, the wood
thrush, clouds, and groundhog.

The snorting doe who stomps
her hoof upon the ground, and the
swaying pine boughs, they all
know Easter's secret--

the wondrous, freeing peace of
the risen sun, the blooming bud,
the heart laid bare with love and
wonder, the many joined as one.
----------------------------------------------------

Today at Crista, two crows preened and cawed their way across the green grass, noisy and alive. The two were steps from the front entrance to Mom and Dad's new home. I never saw crows at Merrill Gardens. This sighting is new; perhaps Mom will forge a relationship with these black feathered friends and breathe in moments of unencumbered joy.

Moveable Feast

Easter Weekend arrives. As our ancient gardener in Aruba would say late summer or early fall of each year, "Well, Mrs. Thompson, Christmas is upon us." And I'd have to say the same of Easter; it is upon us. Unlike Keith who lamented months in advance, Easter just creeps up.

Is there ever a "good" time for this most honored and holy string of days in the Christian calendar? Probably so but I think not, at least for me, this year. In a month already overburdened with events, obligations, trips, and sprinkled with ever present stress, resistance, and change, it seems that Easter might pick another weekend in 2008, say in April sometime. I would honor the opportunity to really consider the contemplative questions and the issues that this time of year brings forth but just not now.

Railing against the question: "why now?", I decided to research the answer. At least that way, I'd own one crisp and accurate response to a long list of unanswerables. Easter, the so-called "Moveable Feast" in the Christian calendar, hits anywhere from March 22 to April 25. Easter is celebrated on the first Sunday after the "Paschal Full Moon" (which this year occurs today, March 21). The Pashcal Full Moon is the first full moon after the Spring Equinox (a date that is fluidly defined and too complex to describe here; I've learned it isn't always on March 21).

That Easter this year falls on March 23 makes this one of the earliest possible dates in the calendar. According to The Christian History Institute, the last time Easter occurred on March 22 was in 1818 and the last time it occurred on March 23 was 1913 (not in our lifetimes!) The early bird nature of this year's Easter should be noted as quite unusual and perhaps that explains why the celebration feels so out of place.

Tonight is Seattle First Baptist Church's magnificent production of The Passion featuring choir, orchestra, bells, and their new organ, an instrument which Mom and Dad helped fund generously last year. They have never had the opportunity to hear the organ played. Tonight we had considered taking them to this event as both had expressed an interest but today is "moving day" in this time of moveable feasts, laden with newness, anxiety, and exhaustion. How can one more event be tacked on to the days of 90 year old people? I think not although sadness pervades. Timing is everything and Easter is just too early this year.

Amen.