THE MAMMOGRAM ......
I actually kept my mammogram appointment. I was met with, "Hi! I'm
Belinda!" This perky clipboard carrier smiled from ear to ear, tilted
her head to one side and crooned, "All I need you to do is step into
this room right hereee, strip to the waist, thennnn slip on this gown.
Everything clearrrr?"
I'm thinking, "Belinda ... try decaf. This ain't rocket science."
Belinda skipped away to prepare the chamber of horrors. Call me crazy,
but I suspect a man invented this machine. It takes a perfectly healthy
cup size of 36-B to a size 38-LONG in less than 60 seconds. Also, girls
aren't made of sugar and spice and everything nice.it's Spandex. We can
be stretched, pulled and twisted over a cold 4-inch piece of square
glass and still pop back into shape.
With the right side finished, Belinda flipped me (literally) to the left
and said, "Hmmmm. Can you stand on your tippy toes and lean in a tad so
we can get everything?"
Fine, I answered. I was freezing, bruised, and out of air, so why not
use the remaining circulation in my legs and neck and finish me off?
My body was in a holding pattern that defied gravity (with my other boob
wedged between those two 4" pieces of square glass) when we heard, then
felt a zap! Complete darkness and the power went off!
"What?" I yelled.
"Oh, maintenance is working. Bet they hit a snag." Belinda headed for
the door.
"Excuse me! You're not leaving me in this vise alone, are you?" I
shouted.
Belinda kept going and said, "Oh, you fussy puppy ... the door's wide
open so you'll have the emergency hall lights.
I'll be righttttt backkkk."
Before I could shout "NOOOO!" she disappeared.
And that's exactly how Bubba and Earl, maintenance men extraordinaire,
found me, half-naked and part of me dangling from the Jaws of Life and
the other part smashed between glass!
After exchanging polite "Hi, how's it going" type greetings, Bubba (or
possibly Earl) asked, to my utter disbelief, if I knew the power was
off. Trying to disguise my hysteria, I replied with as much calmness as
possible. "Uh, yes .. yes I did, thanks."
"You bet, take care" Bubba replied and waved good-bye as though I'd been
standing in the line at the grocery store.
Two hours later, Belinda breezes in wearing a sheepish grin and making
no attempt to suppress her amusement, she said. "Oh I am soooo sorry!
The power came back on and I totally forgot about you! And silly me, I
went to lunch. Are we upset?"
And that, Your Honor, is exactly how her head ended up between the
clamps........
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Ward and Melanie sent this lil' note along to us and it kind'a fit us too.. so we share...
The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know.
Old age, I decided, is a gift. I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body- but I don't agonize over it for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to overeat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read until 4 am, and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50's & 60ies, and if I at the same time wish to weep over a lost love, I will. I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten and I eventually remember the important things. Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. I can say "no", and mean it. I can say "yes", and mean it. As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer the question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. For the first time in my life, I don't have to have a reason to do the things I want to do. If I want to play games on the computer all day, lay on the couch and watch old movies for hours or don't want to go to the beach or a movie, I have earned that right. I have put in my time doing everything for others, so now I can be a bit selfish without feeling guilty.
I sometimes feel sorry for the young. They face a far different world than I knew growing up, where we feared the law, respected the old, the flag, our country. I never felt the need to use filthy language in order to express myself. And they too will grow old someday.
I am grateful to have been born when I was, into a kinder, gentler world.
Yes, I like being old!
Old age, I decided, is a gift. I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body- but I don't agonize over it for long.
I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to overeat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read until 4 am, and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50's & 60ies, and if I at the same time wish to weep over a lost love, I will. I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten and I eventually remember the important things. Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. I can say "no", and mean it. I can say "yes", and mean it. As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer the question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. For the first time in my life, I don't have to have a reason to do the things I want to do. If I want to play games on the computer all day, lay on the couch and watch old movies for hours or don't want to go to the beach or a movie, I have earned that right. I have put in my time doing everything for others, so now I can be a bit selfish without feeling guilty.
I sometimes feel sorry for the young. They face a far different world than I knew growing up, where we feared the law, respected the old, the flag, our country. I never felt the need to use filthy language in order to express myself. And they too will grow old someday.
I am grateful to have been born when I was, into a kinder, gentler world.
Yes, I like being old!
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