Monthly Archives: April 2014

The Adoption Option

I grew up with a mother who loved having company and always had open arms to adopt the needy or the orphaned.  Our home at holidays, and really any time, was open to friends and often to complete strangers who did not have family with whom to spend the days.  There was (and still is) always room for one or two more at Mom’s table, and so I took advantage of the extra space this past Easter and invited M., my new friend from a previous post.

With the exception of street corner panhandlers (okay, and yes, even them), my heart breaks for people in need, especially if they are experiencing a pain or need that I have felt in my own life, a trait I likely inherited from my dear mother.  Throughout my life, I have oft passed a few bucks–and once my last $20–to a stranger in need, or purchased a pack of ciggies for a bum who was digging through the dirty ashtray for butts.  I am at my best when I transfer focus from the cares and insanity of my own life to someone else whose struggles may be worse than mine.   Helping others makes me happy! Continue reading The Adoption Option

On Fire and Going Nowhere!

I marvel at the callousness and lack of caring exhibited by what seems to be the majority of the American public.  So absorbed in their own pursuits are they that a stranger in need is either invisible to them or perceived as nothing more than a serious obstacle, an inconvenience as they race forward to God knows where.  While driving to work the other day, I observed a Volkswagon Bug in the lanes going the opposite direction.  It was smoking and bursting into flames while it’s owner, a thin blonde woman, stood in the median frantically gesticulating to attract attention and warn oncoming traffic.  Did one person pull over and stop to help her, to offer assistance or moral support?  Not that I saw!  Frustrated and annoyed that someone else’s crisis might delay them from their destinations, they jockeyed for positions and then drove on by.  Honestly, I’m surprised no one honked!

Holiday Shmoliday

So, it’s Easter.  I was looking forward to dinner and visiting with my family–Mom, Dad and son.  I don’t know what his problem is today, but he’s pissed off at the world and cranky and last minute backing out.  Typical of my volatile son this is, but still I am saddened and concerned and frustrated.  Why is it that holidays seem to always bring out the “best” in people?

Unexpected Friends

Many times over the years I have angrily shouted at God, “Why me?” and, just as it did last night, the answer always comes from a most unlikely source at a completely unexpected time.

At work, I am the supervisor of approximately 15 associates. Relative peace reigns most of the time, but occasionally an associate comes along that puts me to the test both personally and professionally.  About three months ago, a college student whom I’ll call M. began working in my department, and from the start I had a sense that he would test me or push me to the limit in some way.  My instinct was not wrong.

A month into M.’s time at the store, I was called into the Store Manager’s office.  M. had made allegations that I was targeting him and that he was being discriminated against because of his religious beliefs.  I was shocked and not shocked at the same time, because several days prior when I had asked him into the office for a discussion, he had bluntly asked me if I wanted him gone and told me that another associate (a known drama causer) had placed this idea in his head.

Fortunately, I have worked with my Store Manager for 5 years.  She knows that I care about my associates and would not purposely single out one and torture him.  Still, she did share with me that I should work on tailoring my approach to individual associates’ personalities and needs.  I took her advice to heart and promised to be more careful of my interactions in the future.  Because M. felt uncomfortable with the idea of a mediated discussion with the two of us present, the Store Manager asked me to give her in writing my responses to his allegations so that she could present them to him in an effort to resolve the situation.  Following her second discussion with M., she gave no report to me leading me to conclude that all was settled, but I was cautious and sensitive to his concerns when speaking to him after that.

A month passed, and one day M. failed to show up for work without calling to inform us.  I called his cell phone but was immediately transferred to voice mail.  A few days later, I received an e-mail that he had applied for leave due to a serious illness, and the Store Manager informed me he was in the hospital.

When M. returned to work after about a week, he was pale and shaky.  I expressed concern and asked how he was feeling.  I sympathized with him that it must have been difficult being so ill and with no family around.  M.’s home is a state away.  He is in town to attend the University.  Respecting his privacy, I did not ask M. why he had been in the hospital and he did not offer that information…until the following night.

As I was passing by inspecting the floor that night at clean-up time, I asked M. to make sure the lower shelves of the tables were recovered.  He immediately doubled over appearing to be in pain, reminded me that he had just been in the hospital, and told me that he could not bend.  Feeling like an idiot, I quickly apologized and asked the other associate to get the bottoms.  M. then busted out in peels of laughter and said, “Gotcha!”  He could bend, and he would get the bottom shelves.  Relieved, I laughingly scolded him and went about my business.

Later that night, when I approached the area where M. was working, he asked me if I would like to know why he had been in the hospital.  I responded that I hadn’t asked because it was his private business, but that he could tell me if he wanted to.  Wide-eyed, I listened as he shared that he had gone to the Emergency Room because his anxiety had gotten out of control–he told me he suffers from depression and anxiety–and they had transferred him to a mental facility where he had been basically locked up and unable to call anyone.  I almost cried for him right there.  How frightening, and such an unwarranted abuse of control over someone who was in a fragile state.  We talked some more, and I shared with him that I was well acquainted with mental health issues–myself and several members of my family.  We said we’d have lunch sometime and share horror stories.

That evening, I could not let go and stop thinking about this young man’s plight.  I determined to let him know that I would be there for him if he ever needed help again so that he would not be forced to turn to a system that has no understanding of mental illness and only fears it.  The next day at work, as I dug through my purse for one of my business cards to give to M., I silently thanked God that because of my suffering I am able to understand and help others who are hurting.  I told M. to use my number any time of the day or night, and he in great appreciation responded that I could not possibly know how much it meant to him.  He said, “I have no one here.”

Crusty Oatmeal Bowls

Lucky me, I’m gonna spend my Sunday afternoon scraping and washing crusted oatmeal from every bowl in my kitchen.  Yes, there are a few in my bedroom too, since I eat my morning oatmeal while checking the news and my Facebook feed on my computer.   Every time I conquer an oatmeal bowl mountain, I promise myself that I will rinse and wash the bowls daily so I won’t build another mountain, but here I am again.  Maybe I’ll make a cup of Zingiber Ginger Coconut tea and sip and reflect for a few minutes first.

Don’t judge me, just love me!  Haha!

Dirty Oatmeal Bowl Mountain
Dirty Oatmeal Bowl Mountain


Dirty Oatmeal Bowls Everywhere
Dirty Oatmeal Bowls Everywhere




Doctor’s Office Blues

We’ve all experienced it, that punched-in-the-gut feeling you get when you’ve been betrayed or when someone or some situation hurts you deeply.  It’s like a sickening cloud that moves back and forth between your head and your stomach and you can’t escape it.  One of those clouds is threatening to control me at this very moment.

I have a very close relationship with my doctor.  He’s seen me through many of life’s ups and downs, and he’s one of the sweetest, kindest men I know.  My access to his care and advice is only a phone call or an e-mail away any time of the day or night thanks to a paid membership in a concierge medical program, which I pay in addition to my health insurance.   Although the extra fee is a struggle sometimes, we all enjoy the benefits of this membership.

Conversely, my relationship with my doctor’s staff–nurses, medical assistants, office manager, etc.–and the service that I receive from them has been much less than could be expected.  Many times over the past several years, messages I have left for the doc have not been delivered, prescriptions have not been sent to pharmacies in a timely manner, and referrals for procedures have taken longer than they should.  With my membership, I am entitled to same day and next day appointments with the doctor, if necessary, but his staff has tried to put me off many times, even when the doctor has personally told me to tell them to get me in a certain day and time. Continue reading Doctor’s Office Blues