Like The Queen
Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.

1 Comments:

Clearly, doctoring is in the genes...to the third generation! Blessings upon him, and upon BD, whose sight I am sure will be healed to the best of his ability, God willing (I will add prayers too).

Sounds like it's been quite a week. Hugs to you both,

By Anonymous Marg in Calgary, at 9:08 AM  

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Thursday, March 27, 2008  



It's a small world of bacon kept at 6 degrees. Bacon is 6 degrees away from coincidence. 6 small worlds are a degree more than bacon.

Let me tell you of some coincidences.

But first – a long story about a wee little girl and a hero.

When I was 2 I fell on a toy and crushed the left iliac artery at the base of my torso. The skin didn't break so there was no bloody mess to alert folk. It bruised up pretty badly, though so Mama took me to the pediatrician who tut-tutted it and sent us home. I grew listless, then limp, then began to die while the dr. and the dad insisted my mother was overreacting. “Do you know more than a doctor?” beat her about the head. In desperation, she found another doctor who, upon looking at me, hissed mutterings about incompetents who should lose their licenses and of course, right away began treating me. He opened up the skin, mended the injury, sewed me back up and at this point, my own memory of him kicks in. I had to go see him frequently and have my wound checked and dressings changed. What I remember was a giant about 12 feet tall who I knew was going to rip about 6 miles of very sticky white tape off my already tender body and then, after a few moments, wrap me back up in more of that evil sticky tape and send me home. At the point of actual memory I am sure I thought this would be my fate for the rest of my life.

We lived in the new post-war starter suburbs of Richmond and drove in on Monument Avenue to get to Stuart Circle Hospital where the Giant Man With Tape had his office. About 2/3 of the way in the street went from asphalt to cobblestone and the musical hum of the tires on the stone were the first intimation that we were going to the Dread GMWT. I would begin to cry. Daddy would begin to sing goober peas. Everyone would work hard to sooth the anxiety. It never worked. To this day, if I'm coming in to Richmond from the west end on Monument Ave., when I hear that hum, I feel like crying.

I can also remember the visit when he didn't rip white tape off of me and from that moment on I liked him very much. He was our pediatrician long after we moved to Chesterfield – probably till we were all grown up. I know he was the doctor who diagnosed my sister's rheumatic fever. Yup. He was, and has remained, in family legened, the hero who saved my life.

Fast forward to this a.m. - after a second mini surgery yesterday for poor BD – and the doctor is finished with him and I notice that he is Dr. P. B. the III. And though the name isn't an uncommon name, it is a Virginia last name and he's a Richmond doctor with that name and he's the III, so what would you do? Of course I had to ask, “Was your father a doctor too? A pediatrician? Well. He saved my life when I was a toddler.”

And now I am sure he is going to save BD's eyesight. Small, not too uncommon developments required a little more intervention but everything was all big smiles this morning so we are still feeling way too confident and relieved to grouse about little inconveniences or delays. If my darling is forbidden to read right now – at least he'd already gotten his last book off to the publishers the week before surgery. And I have shelves of audio books in the library.

But to top up the coincidences, while sitting in the waiting room, PD, one of my beloved retired library volunteers who had moved to Richmond walked in – another patient of Dr. P.B.III – son of Once Dreaded, Now Revered GMWT, who also saved my life. PD, who reads my blog and thus, can keep up with life at the library!

Hello Penny!

It's a small world – and perhaps in Richmond, and eastern Virginia altogether, it's a very very small world. Thank goodness it's so full of such great people. In addition to these great folk, our dear friends D&P put us up last night, when we finally finished up with health matters. Love ya D&P !

I hadn't taken the Birthday Socks because we thought this was just going to be a quick run in and out check up sort of visit. We didn't even have tooth brushes! Well, that is, we went and bought them. I had taken along my Cherry Tree Hill socks and I'm half way down the cuff of sock #2. The birthday is on Monday, though – and I'll get back on those socks tonight.

More stuff is going on, but this post is long enough. I have to go in way early tomorrow but there could be real posts, with real photos, this weekend – this Happy Birthday Weekend. Ta.

posted by Bess | 3:54 PM
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