Joy of Children and Frustration of Doctors

Today was a lazy day; I didn't have to be anywhere or do much of anything. Harry watered the plants and I emptied the kitty litter--one day early. I cleaned the wood floors on the first floor and the steps. That's all of it. Yesterday, I told my little neighbor friends if I didn't answer my front door to come around the back, to the sunroom. Today, two of them did; they told me all about school. I think they're absolutely great and having six little girl neighbors is the bestest ever. I'm sending in an application to read aloud to itty bitties at a daycare center. I saw an ad in the Sunday paper and called. I offered to volunteer for hospice patients but they didn't seem to want to work around my time schedule and the only one they called me for was in Wilmington and she had to be convinced. No thanks. I had told them at first, I didn't want to go out of Newark--my town. Oh, well, what could be better than reading to children? Other than hanging out with my kids, painting or reading?

I'm pretty conventional in what I like, progressive(?) in my politics and such, and totally nuts about animals. I love staying up late forever reacting to the strictures of childhood. And I revel in Jerry's dictum of all I need to do is be.

Next week my being will be getting shots in my back to perhaps kill the pain. After packing and unpacking to move here, I had back pain every day and it only got worse. I'm glad there is such a thing as pain specialists who have tricks to deal with pain. My right shoulder became excruciatingly painful a few months ago. Gradually it improved, and when I got shots in it, the pain was almost gone. Except it didn't all go. The ortho said my rota tor cuff tear was/is the problem and I'm having surgery on that Sept. 25. I'm nervous about the pain afterward and looking forward to sitting around watching TV. I could work it out to do that some days, but I don't. Not getting my shoulder wet sounds like a real nasty, uncomfortable, dirty challenge. I don't know if the surgery is worth it. I'm just careening toward it blindly. Not good.

Yesterday, a different doctor basically told me I was a nut case, although maybe he didn't mean that. When he said my shortness of breath and chest pain was not caused by my heart, that was good, but then when I asked him, he said reflux couldn't cause it either. He was wrong. I knew before reflux could have been the problem, and last night, I researched it, and I was right. Jerk! Arrogant piss-ant, overpriced, dressed up special bean. Boy, do I resent doctors! Medical school confers sainthood, left hand of God hood on smartass know-it-all jerks. Having a chronic disease confers the knowledge of doctors' lack of knowledge on the poor suffering patient.

First Friends, Then People in Whom I Saw No Good

So many friends have come and gone. I try hard to hold on to those with whom I've made a connection; sometimes I succeed and sometimes not. I've made one new friend over the last couple of years--Joalice and her husband Kevin. And Susan before that. I may even have made a new friend just now, here in Delaware. She's named Susan too. But I'm trying hard to hold on to Theresa and I lost Tye. Of course, my lifelong friend and cousin is gone.

There was a bunch of people I was hanging out with and I still like most of them but our interests diverged and I just don't see them anymore. We weren't good enough friends to be calling and doing other things together. I send them Harry's and my articles as a way of keeping in touch and although it's a little like lecturing, the articles are probably way better than visiting. I liked them but mostly there was no meeting of the minds and I too often sat there mute or trying to hard. I know I "threw out the bathwater with the baby", but I wasn't able to single out the people I liked for conversations without seeing people who upset me. I think because I'm older and was raised by folks born just this side of the Twentieth Century (and before), I can't deal with people talking about events in my presence to which I wasn't invited. It was rude and I was hurt.

I've never gotten over not having been invited to some party in Fourth Grade when half the class was. Instead of doing something fun, my mom encouraged me to stage a rival party in the same place. That wasn't a good idea and it burned a slight into a scar. Nobody grows up without pain, I understand. I could kick myself for letting a misogynist European get under my skin. There were a few ego-challenged guys there working hard to be dominant and a lot of women catering to those fellows.

I ran up against that same kind of crap when I worked with too many people who'd gone through Catholic School. What is it with that patriarchal society? It doesn't seem to stick with Italian women nearly as much as the Irish and Germans. The Italians are a lot like the Jews and they question authority. The others hated women as much as the men did. Get ahead and they'd cut you down faster than a man would. (That's why I can't see Hillary winning.) I know the nuns do good work and they're dedicated people. I have a hard time with the women who grew up obedient little girls.

The older I get the more I believe in the values of the 1960s. Question authority. Down with the establishment. Peace and love forever, especially peace. Love comes later. Free love. Do your own thing as long as you don't hurt anybody else. Black power. Freedom. Be yourself. Love yourself. The truth will set you free.

I have some truth that's been sitting inside me waiting for the cork to blow. I must leave a nasty message for the evil doers I've known:

Margaret with a Jewish last-name who isn't Jewish is a heartless, conniving witch who tried to fire me and trumped up bullshit to try and throw me in jail (of all things.) She got ahead by having sex with the boss. It wasn't a secret. Every educated intelligent woman was a threat to her.

The secy who worked for the head of the agency is a hateful miserable woman who believed all women should follow the Catholic School example. She loathed me. I didn't think of her.

The assistant's "office asst." is a nasty excuse for a woman who absolutely couldn't contain her resentment of aware women. She loathed me too. I used to walk the long way around her, away from her and glory in her being unable to channel her anger toward me.

and Rosa is a sneak and she should only suffer the illnesses she dismissed in others.

And one of the worst people I ever knew was another secy who gloated--celebrated--other people's misery. I actually ran into her after we both had retired and she acted as though she didn't know me. Good! I didn't know what to say to her. What can you say to someone who hates all human beings and longs to see them tortured?

I enjoyed talking to R and N who hated each other. N believed all the crazy conspiracy theories that float by and R had ongoing ailments, a depressed husband, and a delicious Italianess oozing out of her. I was an anomaly to her but she was friendly.

All gone and I will never miss them. Those were people I've known and learned from the encounters in places I couldn't wait to escape.