Scribblings

Speaking about hospitals

I recently spent almost nine hours on an ER bed waiting for a hospital room. I’ve decided, based on the soreness of my ass, that ER beds are made of the same material as airline seats back in the cattle car section. Yep, those same airline seats they always tell you can double as flotation devices. Just stick your arms through the straps and float. Right. You will sink like a rock. Those airline seats have all the floatibility of a cement brick. And less comfort. So I have to wonder why hospitals went to the same manufacturers to get

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Scribblings

They can call it what they want but…

When I nursed, we had no pretenses about what you were served for meals. It was hospital food. No frills. No muss. No fuss. No taste. No visual appeal. But it did not pretend to any other aspirations.

Now in hospitals they call it “dining”. You order your own personal preferences from a menu that would not be out of place in a decent bistro. The descriptions were clearly written by the same person.

Then the food comes. And guess what? They can call it what they want, but it’s still hospital food.

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Scribblings

Well, well… no surprise

Spent the night in the hospital with dehydration and other stupid things wrong. I knew I was in trouble when I lost my appetite and didn’t want to eat at all. I always figured in my life that would be the first sign of imminent death.

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Scribblings

How about rebuilding America?

I grew up in a time when Americans did not run around waving rubber fingers and screaming, “We’re number one” at every possible opportunity. Of course we believed America was number one. We felt we proved it every day in the way we lived and thrived, in the way our middle class grew stronger, in the way the world looked to us for moral authority because, in America, we didn’t torture, kill or discriminate. At least, that was the illusion.

The truth, sadly, was that we did discriminate against any citizens we felt were different. If you were black or

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pictures, Scribblings

Happy Anniversary, Snowy

image

Happy Anniversary, Snowy. You came to me one year ago today and, in a house already filled with love and animals, you showed me that there is infinite room to add more love and animals. No matter what BuddhaBubba and Carm might occasionally mutter, and no matter how much the birds scream at you, our lives would not be half as full of love and fun without you.

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Scribblings

Being dizzy

Being a dizzy blond is fun. Being dizzy because you’ve puffed on a joint is fun. Being dizzy because you have vertigo and fall over if you turn your head the wrong way is not. If this is the flashbacks our parents warned us about, I, for one, am terribly disappointed.

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Scribblings

Bubba and the rain

Bubba doesn’t like the rain. She sleeps curled up on her bed for as long as possible without moving on rainy days. Then, when the poop and pee are about to pop out of her because she’s waited so long, she jumps up like she was shot from a cannon, races to the nearest pee pad, does what she has to in the fastest time possible and is back curled up on her bed before I can scream, “No, wait. Go out!”.

I guess ending my life as the chief pooper scooper for birds and dogs isn’t the worse thing

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