even thought they know your name, they ask you all the time anyway, and then what is your birthdate, just to make sure you are you but they all know your name. hi linda hi linda good morning linda how are you linda...
there is much to do in pre-op, lots of questions and a new outfit with vacuum cleaner hose holes and fuzzy socks with treads, a cap for later. i was uneasy and nervous when the double doors outside my cube burst open and a gigantic man with big blue jeans, a black polo shirt and a worn out canvas brief case barreled his presence into pre-op. he tried to sneak by my bed but nice nurse tammi nabbed him and there he was towering over me grabbing at my right hand. he was the pillsbury dough boy crossed with an old ray bolger with a little bit of jack nicholson attitude.
the nurse said "we were just going to find a good vein but then we saw you and you are so much better at it"... and without even saying hello he flicked the top of my right hand hard with long knockworst fingers and then smacked it again and within a second the needle was deep in my vein and i was iv ready. this big old grumpy grampa in a black polo shirt did it almost with his eyes closed, taped it all down and that was that.
off he went and nice nurse said "he just happened to be on his way in and i grabbed him, he's the best. he will be your anesthesiologist"
uh oh.
i was crying when they wheeled me into the operating room which has become my habit and it comforts me that no one notices or is bothered by it. there are so many of them and there is so much to do and they each have their special tasks. the way they took charge of every piece of me was so comforting. i had no idea what was happening, but to them, it was just a wednesday morning.
ok linda we're going to slide you over, put your bottom right above that hole. we're going to wrap you up and tuck your arms under you. now we are wrapping your legs with these these pressure cuffs to keep your blood moving nicely and we are going to put lots of stickers on you, sit up just a little honey, ok lie back down linda now you are going to start to feel relaxed...
bring it on dr b.
many hours later, in the middle of the night, a storm rolled in over downtown minneapolis and i was so glad it was all over. time for a check of vitals and a dose of an iv blood product, which of course required the nurse to ask me my name again.
what's your name honey?
mariah carey.
:)
Friday, July 31, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
eviction notice
i can't believe i ever called her my friend. that bitch. she showed up when i was 12 and terrified me. i didn't know who or what she was but there she was, in front of me, a part of me and i have never liked her. my sister told me who she was and how long she'd be staying and then finally gave me her copy of "growing up and liking it" which she had received when she was a girl scout. i never received my own copy, having never made it past one season of brownies.
i have had it with you, old maid. we have spent approximately 2,736 days together these past 38 years and i haven't enjoyed one of them. not one!
remember the time you showed up unexpectedly when i was just starting to teach a class on leadership in st cloud? it was my birthday and i drove through the thickest scariest fog to get there and you followed me. i wasn't ready for you but you SO didn't care. i was already so stressed but you just laughed out loud and made me feel self-conscious.
or what about when you marched your ass into the dressing room opening night of "into the woods" at theater in the round? you didn't peak around the corner this time, or give me a coy little poke and wink saying "here i come...i'll be with you soon..." no -- this time you fell from the sky in a heavy drunken thump and freaked me out because again you were not expected till next week and dammit my costume - my GOWN-- it was white and you almost ruined my evening.
so you old hag, a couple of weeks ago notice was thereby issued that i am to be rid of you once and and for all and i told you there was nothing you could do about it.
but you, in your tenacious, stubborn, SNEAKY way, decided to have one last hurrah, didn't you. you tangled yourself up at 4 this morning and then you twisted and punched at the tangles and woke me up to torture me one last time. bonus for you -- i can't take ibuprofen for the next few days because of you know why, and you are delighted! listen ragsucker, that is a super mean trick.
i'm trying to think of something nice to say about you, and about the time we have spent together but, sorry aunt flo, nothing is striking me. instead i am remembering the days before over-the-counter medication that actually worked was available. those days of lying in agony with a hot pad on my stomache and the only thing that that did was burn my skin and make my hair sweat. you made me cry and you made me ache and i have hated you and you need to GO!
wait a sec -- there might be something. give me a minute.
ok, here's one: whenever you visited in the seventh grade, you were my "no questions asked" excuse not to have to take a shower after gym class. i hated that ritual and i was never sweaty anyway but those mean old coaches with pleated skirts and tanned varicose veins insisted we get nude and rinse off. god i was glad when you were there!
and you know what? nobody craves a better feast than you. today, in preparation for our parting, you drove me to porters for a gigantic cheeseburger and fries and two cold beers. midafternoon you lured me into the bedroom, presented me with a pile of fresh pillows, a glass of wine and a great chick flick, and you gave me permission -- no! a directive -- to lounge for a couple of hours even though so many things needed doing.
and what about those times that i paced the floor waiting for you - sometimes for days, and i worried i might not see you -- not for several months! those were crushingly tense days and nights. but you always did arrive, and when you did i cried my eyes out, so relieved that you decided to come and only sorry about the pain after my joy had subsided.
OK OK, we've been through a lot together. but listen cousin, time for you to go. we are getting along worse than ever these days and it isn't good for either one of us.
wednesday is the day, so be sure and say everything you need to say before 7am on the 29th. go ahead, say what you need to say.
by the way, thanks for ordering up spaghetti and garlic bread for dinner, my friend,
and brownies for dessert.
if there is anything else, i am listening.
i have had it with you, old maid. we have spent approximately 2,736 days together these past 38 years and i haven't enjoyed one of them. not one!
remember the time you showed up unexpectedly when i was just starting to teach a class on leadership in st cloud? it was my birthday and i drove through the thickest scariest fog to get there and you followed me. i wasn't ready for you but you SO didn't care. i was already so stressed but you just laughed out loud and made me feel self-conscious.
or what about when you marched your ass into the dressing room opening night of "into the woods" at theater in the round? you didn't peak around the corner this time, or give me a coy little poke and wink saying "here i come...i'll be with you soon..." no -- this time you fell from the sky in a heavy drunken thump and freaked me out because again you were not expected till next week and dammit my costume - my GOWN-- it was white and you almost ruined my evening.
so you old hag, a couple of weeks ago notice was thereby issued that i am to be rid of you once and and for all and i told you there was nothing you could do about it.
but you, in your tenacious, stubborn, SNEAKY way, decided to have one last hurrah, didn't you. you tangled yourself up at 4 this morning and then you twisted and punched at the tangles and woke me up to torture me one last time. bonus for you -- i can't take ibuprofen for the next few days because of you know why, and you are delighted! listen ragsucker, that is a super mean trick.
i'm trying to think of something nice to say about you, and about the time we have spent together but, sorry aunt flo, nothing is striking me. instead i am remembering the days before over-the-counter medication that actually worked was available. those days of lying in agony with a hot pad on my stomache and the only thing that that did was burn my skin and make my hair sweat. you made me cry and you made me ache and i have hated you and you need to GO!
wait a sec -- there might be something. give me a minute.
ok, here's one: whenever you visited in the seventh grade, you were my "no questions asked" excuse not to have to take a shower after gym class. i hated that ritual and i was never sweaty anyway but those mean old coaches with pleated skirts and tanned varicose veins insisted we get nude and rinse off. god i was glad when you were there!
and you know what? nobody craves a better feast than you. today, in preparation for our parting, you drove me to porters for a gigantic cheeseburger and fries and two cold beers. midafternoon you lured me into the bedroom, presented me with a pile of fresh pillows, a glass of wine and a great chick flick, and you gave me permission -- no! a directive -- to lounge for a couple of hours even though so many things needed doing.
and what about those times that i paced the floor waiting for you - sometimes for days, and i worried i might not see you -- not for several months! those were crushingly tense days and nights. but you always did arrive, and when you did i cried my eyes out, so relieved that you decided to come and only sorry about the pain after my joy had subsided.
OK OK, we've been through a lot together. but listen cousin, time for you to go. we are getting along worse than ever these days and it isn't good for either one of us.
wednesday is the day, so be sure and say everything you need to say before 7am on the 29th. go ahead, say what you need to say.
by the way, thanks for ordering up spaghetti and garlic bread for dinner, my friend,
and brownies for dessert.
if there is anything else, i am listening.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
edna's dreams
to eliminate any confusion, "edna lizard" is an annagram (spelling?) for my real name. some of you know that....
even still -- she is a real someone, that edna - a switched up mixed up, more enlightend me, and i adore her. and her lessons.
in the entries here, i typically try very hard to make sense out of an observation, a thought, a conversation, a fear...
but on edna's blog, she just describes what she sees and smells and feels when she is dreaming.
ednadreaming.blogspot.com
even still -- she is a real someone, that edna - a switched up mixed up, more enlightend me, and i adore her. and her lessons.
in the entries here, i typically try very hard to make sense out of an observation, a thought, a conversation, a fear...
but on edna's blog, she just describes what she sees and smells and feels when she is dreaming.
love that about her. edna says
"things don't need to make sense right now. patience child! just keep observing. the meaning will come if you don't try to make sense of it, so stop trying".
ednadreaming.blogspot.com
Friday, July 17, 2009
madonna in the poop
a young hispanic man went outside to wash his truck yesterday and noticed some bird poop on one of the mirrors. miraculously, the poop had drizzled itself into a perfect vision of the virgin mary (they super-imposed mary over the poop spot on the news and i mean i totally saw the holy mother in that poop!!!!!).
it has become quite the spectacle! people are stopping by and kneeling in front of the rearview mirror shrine and praying and crying. one woman who was interviewed at the scene said "when i first saw it, i started shaking. it is such a miracle!"
i'm fascinated in learning about what people believe in. in the book "the magic of believing" claude bristol talks about his studies of various religions, cults, and spiritual practices around the world. he found one common denominator in all of them -- and that is that every person believes. some believed they would be safe and unharmed walking across fire, and for others it was commiting their souls to heaven, others still, praying for rain -- whatever it was they were believing in...
it worked.
is this an example of the power of our minds to accomplish things? the power of the connection between our hearts and the universe? the tendons stringing our mortal will to our own destinies?
belief in itself is a mystical thing. it brings comfort, assurance and quiet. in it's purest form, it eliminates all doubt from the things we hope for and dream of...all of those thingsthat we know are right and true and necessary.
the guy who owned the truck said he has removed the mirror and will preserve the stain so people can continue to stop by and look at it
and believe.
it has become quite the spectacle! people are stopping by and kneeling in front of the rearview mirror shrine and praying and crying. one woman who was interviewed at the scene said "when i first saw it, i started shaking. it is such a miracle!"
i'm fascinated in learning about what people believe in. in the book "the magic of believing" claude bristol talks about his studies of various religions, cults, and spiritual practices around the world. he found one common denominator in all of them -- and that is that every person believes. some believed they would be safe and unharmed walking across fire, and for others it was commiting their souls to heaven, others still, praying for rain -- whatever it was they were believing in...
it worked.
is this an example of the power of our minds to accomplish things? the power of the connection between our hearts and the universe? the tendons stringing our mortal will to our own destinies?
belief in itself is a mystical thing. it brings comfort, assurance and quiet. in it's purest form, it eliminates all doubt from the things we hope for and dream of...all of those thingsthat we know are right and true and necessary.
the guy who owned the truck said he has removed the mirror and will preserve the stain so people can continue to stop by and look at it
and believe.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
what are you trying to prove?
i had an idea last night that combines my fascination for three things i have been studying for a little time or a long time: creativity, mindfulness, and self-awareness.
i got the idea from an article in "O" magazine so of course that means once i make a pile'o dough my "product" will be one of Oprah's favorite things.
kathie helped me bat the concept around this afternoo. kathie has such a great mind for this kind of thing and maybe i see that because we think so much alike. when either of us sprouts a new idea, the other looks into her brain as if it were a mirror but we each are looking at different elements of the image.
she is brilliant.
anyway, this process, this "kit", i have created will give the bearer of it the ability to record an idea, thought, moment, or conversation instantly -- and no technology allowed.
after some time passes, we shall look back on our musings reflect on why we chose them, how we represented them, where they came from, and why they were worty of documentation...
and that will tell us a LOT!
kathie said "what? what will it tell us? what do we expect might happen or what we might find, or what might this experiment prove?"
these are very good questions. however,
hush! i don't know what will happen yet! it is just an experiment.
and it starts tomorrow.
oops!
tonight!
i got the idea from an article in "O" magazine so of course that means once i make a pile'o dough my "product" will be one of Oprah's favorite things.
kathie helped me bat the concept around this afternoo. kathie has such a great mind for this kind of thing and maybe i see that because we think so much alike. when either of us sprouts a new idea, the other looks into her brain as if it were a mirror but we each are looking at different elements of the image.
she is brilliant.
anyway, this process, this "kit", i have created will give the bearer of it the ability to record an idea, thought, moment, or conversation instantly -- and no technology allowed.
after some time passes, we shall look back on our musings reflect on why we chose them, how we represented them, where they came from, and why they were worty of documentation...
and that will tell us a LOT!
kathie said "what? what will it tell us? what do we expect might happen or what we might find, or what might this experiment prove?"
these are very good questions. however,
hush! i don't know what will happen yet! it is just an experiment.
and it starts tomorrow.
oops!
tonight!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
michael jackson
i'm watching a recap of michal jackson's funeral with barbara walters, a glass of wine and my own broken promise - "no cigarrettes allowed in the bedroom".
when michael was alive i was one of many who called him a freak, a sad case, a crazy disturbed man. what did he do to those kids and why so many surgeries? freak!
now that he is gone the world is joining in a celebration of the talent, the genius, the gift that he was, and that is what we are remembering.
turns out the bad stuff was conjecture. never proven, no factual evidence that held up in court. all hear-say from people much less rich and perhaps more vulnerable than michael. but we are not remembering that now, now that he is dead we are feeling sorry for him, and for ourselves.
true or false, it reminds me that there are so many more sides than one to each story, and how we as humans tend to latch on to the worst side -- the alleged bad behavior, the things that someone said that someone said. we forget the talent and we forget the genious and we forget the goodness and are not aware of the legacy
until someone is gone.
and then we forget all of that gossip and feel thankful for what he or she was, gave us, and aren't we better people for forgiving him. oh forget all the bad thoughts we had -- what a great loss!
as it happens, he doesn't need our forgiveness, not any more, he's dead. but we forgive and celebrate to make ourselves feel better and hopefully he will hear us now because we were silent when he was with us and now we have changed our minds. some of us anyway, others believed in him all along.
i am feeling a bit ashamed of myself, to have judged a man who had such a sad and tortured life. rather than try to understand, to believe in the gift, to just let him be in my imagination, i joined the gossip, shook my head, and muttered about the tragedy of what he had become, all the time turning my back on the greatness.
to be human, and to cling to the human response of scandal is something many of us do, and i only hope there is a lesson here.
some stories are never truly told. lies become reality and truth lives in darkness.
rest in peace michael jackson,
my profound regrets for not truly honoring your life
till now,
now that you are gone.
when michael was alive i was one of many who called him a freak, a sad case, a crazy disturbed man. what did he do to those kids and why so many surgeries? freak!
now that he is gone the world is joining in a celebration of the talent, the genius, the gift that he was, and that is what we are remembering.
turns out the bad stuff was conjecture. never proven, no factual evidence that held up in court. all hear-say from people much less rich and perhaps more vulnerable than michael. but we are not remembering that now, now that he is dead we are feeling sorry for him, and for ourselves.
true or false, it reminds me that there are so many more sides than one to each story, and how we as humans tend to latch on to the worst side -- the alleged bad behavior, the things that someone said that someone said. we forget the talent and we forget the genious and we forget the goodness and are not aware of the legacy
until someone is gone.
and then we forget all of that gossip and feel thankful for what he or she was, gave us, and aren't we better people for forgiving him. oh forget all the bad thoughts we had -- what a great loss!
as it happens, he doesn't need our forgiveness, not any more, he's dead. but we forgive and celebrate to make ourselves feel better and hopefully he will hear us now because we were silent when he was with us and now we have changed our minds. some of us anyway, others believed in him all along.
i am feeling a bit ashamed of myself, to have judged a man who had such a sad and tortured life. rather than try to understand, to believe in the gift, to just let him be in my imagination, i joined the gossip, shook my head, and muttered about the tragedy of what he had become, all the time turning my back on the greatness.
to be human, and to cling to the human response of scandal is something many of us do, and i only hope there is a lesson here.
some stories are never truly told. lies become reality and truth lives in darkness.
rest in peace michael jackson,
my profound regrets for not truly honoring your life
till now,
now that you are gone.
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