Tag Archives: writing

It’s Deja Vu All Over Again

1 Apr

I was getting ready to go to a meeting Thursday morning when I realized I’d forgotten an important item. Rather than going back upstairs to retrieve it, I asked The Squire to drop it off the balcony for me. We weren’t quite lined up, so I backed up a bit . . . and that was all I remember.

I do not remember The Squire calling 911, or the ambulance carting me off, or anything else until I woke up in the ER. When one of the nurses asked me if I knew where I was, I replied that I was in either one of two hospitals that are within 10 miles of home, but it turned out I’d been taken to a trauma center 15 miles away.

To cut to the chase, I’d fallen backwards and knocked myself out, hitting my head on the sidewalk in front of the building. The staff had taken pictures of the damage, and the back of my head resembled a package of ground beef. At first, the doctors had tried to stitch it all up, but that didn’t work, so they ended up taking me up to surgery at 9 or 10 at night. The work needed to be done in three stages: first they sewed up the muscle across the back of my head and then they stitched the fatty layer. Those were done with stitches that will dissolve. Finally, they had to insert a piece of something to replace a chunk of scalp I’d left back at the condo. I have to go back to the hospital to have those stitches removed. They stick out on the back of my head, which makes sleeping and combing my hair both difficult. I am still leaving bloody spots on towels and pillowcases in spite of wearing a pair of Depends as a nightcap.

As a matter of fact, this little “trip” was a lot more serious than the last time. First of all, I’ve learned that the ambulance left with sirens and lights. They NEVER do that. This is an over 65 community, and people are being taken out by ambulance all the time. The was one day when two people left within an hour of each other, and they left silently. Even when The Squire was taken to Upper Chesapeake with multiple problems there was no noise. I’m still dizzy when I change positions, especially getting into – or out – of bed, and I’m always exhausted. I’m sure this is God’s way of telling me to slow down and remember that I’m not 25 anymore.

Now, if I can just behave myself, all will be well.

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A Mentor

22 Apr

A posting on one of the blogs I follow -http://threesaherd.com/ – talked about mentors and favorite teachers – somebody who really inspired you to make something of your life.

Perhaps if I had been able to stay at Samuel Ready, I might have been able to accomplish more according to the ways of the world. Many of my classmates went on to be lawyers, scientists, etc., in a time when this was not expected of women. (I graduated in 1960.) Unfortunately, I finished the last three years of my education in public school, and under my mother’s roof.

Going from a school with an average class size of ten to classes of forty-five to fifty was a jolt to the system, and coming from an all-girl environment to a co-ed situation darned near killed me. In many ways I was much more sophisticated than my classmates, but what I knew about boys could have been written on my thumbnail, with room to spare. I was, in short, a total nerd.  My mom’s attitude swung between “you can do better than this” to “self-praise stinks”.

It was a no-win situation. Whatever self confidence I may have gained at Samuel Ready was shot full of holes.

After The Squire and I got married, he encouraged me to go back to college and take some courses to get ahead at Blue Cross. The beginning requirements were English 101, which was a primarily a writing course. I loved it! My professor spoke highly of my work, and even read some of my papers to the entire class. He encouraged me to use my writing, perhaps going into Public Relations or even submitting things to the local paper. I did take some college courses in PR, as well as sign language, hoping to get into TV broadcasting.

I never go into broadcasting, and ended up leaving Blue Cross with medical problems, but I have used my writing and speaking talents to edit newspaper articles, teach classes in American History, and help deaf patients when I worked at Hopkins.

Not bad for a nerd.

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