The Doctor Visit

As I sit here in this chair in this cubicle in this antiseptic sterile environment waiting for the Dr. to appear, my mind starts to wander.

When I was a child and even through my teen age years, I remember going to see the doctor and it was a pleasant experience. You entered a friendly warm reception area where you were personally greeted and told that you would be next or Dr. was very busy today or it would be just a short wait.

The experience today is very different. I waited in a blah reception room until the assistant called my name. Then she led me down a maze of corridors and cubicles, most with closed doors. Then I was shown my cubicle and left to wait for the coming of the Dr.

Left alone to my own devices, I begin reminiscing and constructing stories.

My earliest memory of a doctor is our family Doctor, Dr. Olga. She was a short stocky woman who took care of all the family and our ills. Her office was a room in her home and her secretary/assistant was her sister. Once when I was 10 years old (approximately) I fell and badly cut my upper lip. Mama and I rushed to see Dr. Olga. She put me on a table in her office, stopped the bleeding and carefully examined the wound. She announced that it needed a couple of stitches. I vaguely remember Mama and Dr. Olga discussing if she should do it or should they take me to the hospital. After all it was my face and would affect the rest of my life. Dr. Olga felt confident she could do it, Mama had confidence in her and I certainly did. Dr. Olga carefully explained to me that she was going to use a needle and thread (she showed it to me), and go in and out of my lip like the stitches my Mama made in cloth when she was sewing. Then she gave me the choice of having pain medicine or not. She didn’t push for one way or the other. I felt strong and brave in those days and said to just do it. She did. I did not feel undue pain although I did hold tight to my mother’s hand. I think her careful explanation – not sugar coating it, helped me to understand it and deal with it. It has healed and nobody ever notices it. Psssss - I’ve just told you a big secret.

Dr. Olga also made house calls. It was not unusual for her to stop by our house to see one or several of us. I can see her now – confidently walking toward the house with her black satchel while her sister waited in the car.

Dr. Haddock had an office in town and Mama and I always enjoyed going to see him. We would sit in his office, talk about whatever the health issue was and also visit. How was the family – his and ours, the garden, and/or the vacation. His daughter was in my high school class and his family went to our church. This is back in the days when the town was fairly small and everybody knew most everybody.

My mind takes a different turn. It seems I have been left sitting alone in this room a long time. I wonder if anybody has ever been left here in a cubicle overnight or even left for a few hours, forgotten. It seems like it would be an easy thing to happen. When I sit here for awhile I read, think, and then just begin to zone out – maybe even nap. So I might let the time go by too. I think that has the makings of a good story.

As I continue to wait, I realize that I really miss those old days when I personally knew my doctor. I liked it better when I went in and sat in the Dr.’s office and we talked about my health issues and life. Now I go in a maze, sit in a cubicle and am examined by Dr. Robot and then excused. It makes me feel like a “thing” instead of a human being.

Finally, the doctor comes in. He attends to my health issue and then quickly leaves.

I’m left to try to remember how in the world I got where I am and how can I find my way out of this maze.

Senior Lady

Based on a True Story

Once upon a time, a not so long ago, there was a tall skinny senior lady taking a brisk walk on the grounds of a country estate. This estate was in a town so small that there was not even a red light. The senior lady (age not known) met the Dog Lady coming from the opposite direction. She had 3 Boxers on a leash. As she passed, both ladies nodded to each other and Dog Lady said to Senior Lady “Don’t worry, they’re good dogs, they won’t bite.” Senior Lady kept on walking – not talking to the dogs nor petting them or anything.

Now the dogs were sophisticated and hip. They lived in a well educated, financially secure household. So they watched a lot of TV – cartoons, animal planet and nature stories. As they passed the Senior Lady – Dog #1 said to the others “I think she could swell up like a Blow Fish and be a monster!” Dog #2 said, “I think she could flatten herself out on that rock cliff and be camouflaged so that we couldn’t even see her – she’d be invisible.” Dog #3 said, “I think she can hold her breath til she turns red and then blows fire out of her mouth – like a dragon.” All three dogs looked at each other and said “She’s a monster! Let’s take her down!”

Now Dog Lady was admiring the beauties of nature as they passed the Senior Lady. She loved her dogs and indeed thought that they were perfect! She expected no trouble from either her dogs or the innocent looking Senior Lady.

Senior Lady was a walker from way back so she knew to be careful and pay attention to your surroundings and don’t annoy strange dogs. So she kept her head down and kept walking until she was hit from behind with the force of a mac truck and down she went.

The dogs seized her by the leg and began to have their dinner (I don’t know, maybe Dog Lady had not fed them.) Dog #1 took a bite and moved away for Dog #2 and then Dog #3 muscled his way in. That leg bone was just what they wanted.

When this happened, the Dog Lady just stood there in shock for a minute – this couldn’t be happening. Finally she came to enough to realize that she had to get the dogs off the Senior Lady before they started eating other parts.

Senior Lady is lying on the ground, hysterical and saying things that can’t be repeated (some words I think she made up on the spot). She’s bleeding and three dogs are attacking her. She is not a happy camper.

Dog Lady finally gets control of the dogs, looks down at Senior Lady and said “My dogs didn’t bite you. They’re good dogs.” She said this as Senior Lady is lying on the ground, bleeding and hysterical. Senior Lady said “How do you think this happened – that I’m laying on the ground, bleeding and your dogs are on top of me?” Dog Lady decided the best thing to do was to disappear.

As luck would have it, there were only two cars parked by the side of the road – one was Senior Lady’s and one was Dog Lady’s. Now Senior Lady was bleeding, in pain and very upset but not crazy. As she hobbled to her car, she took down the license number of Dog Lady as she sped off.

Senior Lady looked for help – a park ranger, a policeman, anybody. But nobody was around. She drove to the only restaurant in town – a coffee shop and hobbled inside. There she met Rescue Lady. Rescue Lady said, “Do sit down, I’ll make you some tea and call 911” and she did.

Police and the ambulance showed up shortly, took all the information, took care of Senior Lady and whisk her off to the hospital. There she endured further pain as they had to do a leg graft. They cut off a piece of meat from her skinny butt and sewed it on her leg. Oh – the indignity of it all!

The Policeman went to see Dog Lady. She told them her dogs were good dogs but they had a hard time believing that since they also attacked the Policeman.

As of this writing – the fate of the poor dogs is up in the air - also the fate of Dog Lady. As the Policemen left, they said one to the other, “you might think that this is the end of this story but it isn’t – just wait!

The Senior Lady’s lawyer will get in touch with the Dog Lady’s lawyer and this will go on for some time yet!

And you thought seniors led a dull life!

My friend Cornelia is “Senior Lady” in the above story. After the dog attack, she spent several days in the hospital and then was sent to rehab at a nursing home. That is where I visited her. I asked for details regarding the attack. Now she has a wild and wacky sense of humor and began to exaggerate and invent details. I joined in and we spent the afternoon laughing. I left saying that I was going home and would write a story about the event. Several days later I returned, read her the story and we spent the afternoon enjoying my version of the event. I gave her a copy of the story and she sent it to family and friends. The results were a mixed bag – some laughed and some were horrified.

I read it at a Coffee House where it was a smashing success. Since then I’ve used it several times – always to mixed reviews. It’s certainly different – like, let’s see where my imagination can take me.

Cornelia and I like and enjoy it. And now you know the rest of the story.
MBS 1/11

Unexpected Encounters

This morning May 12th, 05 I let Rusty my dog out for his usual morning run. I heard loud frenetic barking – from a dog that doesn’t bark much. I went to see what was happening. Well, he was standing on his hind legs leaning on the wire fence, tail wagging and barking – you know that friendly kind of bark. I thought there must be a dog out there. That wouldn’t be too unusual because out where we live, ever so often a dog comes by to visit. So I watched. Sure enough, a big gray shaggy dog came up and he and Rusty visited – nose to nose, walking, running by the fence smelling each other and then the dog looked toward me – it wasn’t a dog – it was a coyote!!

Oh my!! Oh my!! I watched this miracle unfold. Then I began to worry – maybe the coyote has rabies – seems like he should run off – especially when I appeared. But he didn’t. I called Rusty and called and then demanded and he reluctantly came and the coyote ran away. The whole episode took my breath away.

Now Rusty is pacing in the house, obviously unhappy that he had been called away. I felt like an overprotective mother who was censoring his friends. I let him out after about 15 minutes – I couldn’t stand it any longer. I wanted to know what would happen. Rusty ran to the fence where the coyote was last seen, smelled around and came running back – there was nothing of interest there now. He ran around to the front porch to take a nap – and about 5 minutes later, I heard him run like crazy to the back and to the fence where he and the coyote met. Yes, the coyote came up they nosed each other and the coyote ran off and Rusty came back. But this time there was a calmness in him. It was as if they had said good by to each other and parting was ok.

It was an unexpected event, one that left me standing with my mouth open – not quite believing what I just witnessed.

I told some friends of this experience and each one said, “Did you get a photo?” No, I replied – I was too busy being in the moment. I didn’t even think of pictures.

Then I remember the time that my friend Dorothy and I went Whale Watching. We took a boat out of Provincetown, Ma. We had been out several hours and seen quite a few whales – at some distance and even some swimming close by. And then, a huge whale, right by the boat, stood straight up on its tail and then began to fall back into the water. I stood there with my mouth open watching this unbelievable sight. Not until the whale was falling back into the water did it occur to me to take a picture - too late. The camera was right there – around my neck. I was too busy watching this amazing sight. I could not take my eyes of the whale.

Another photo op missed.

But not all opportunities are missed. My friend, Lyn and I were coming back home from a trip to Cape Cod in 2000 to see dear friends. We were on country roads – farm land all around and we saw something in the field to the right. What was it? We looked, we questioned, we guessed – was it ducks, geese, birds, or turkeys. We got closer and Lyn was sure it was Snow Geese. Neither of us had ever seen them before. They were so beautiful! A flock of beautiful Snow Geese flying around the just harvested corn field, alighting in trees, moving from place to place in the field, making geese sounds and warily watching us. We parked the car on the side of the road and began taking pictures. Every time they moved – we moved. We had a great time taking pictures and were quite pleased with some of the shots. Obviously they were migrating and had found a meal and a place to stop for awhile. And of course, when we got home – we looked up Snow Geese, just to make sure we were right. Another treasured time!

These awesome unexpected brushes with nature leave me spellbound – whether they are recorded or not. They leave an indelible print in my mind and a deeper consciousness of nature and an overwhelming respect for nature. I have been enriched by being privy to these unexpected brushes.

The Little Brown Wooden Box

Grandpa McGee died when I was 5 years old.
I have a few very select memories of him.

I remember:
Sitting in the well house door eating raw peanuts. We lived on a southern farm and grew peanuts. When it was time, the whole plant was pulled up, piled on a wagon and taken to the barn. There they were piled on the ground near the well house door. Grandpa and I were picking the peanuts off the plant and putting them in a bucket. Of course, about as many went into our mouths as in the bucket. I remember Grandpa telling me not to eat too many because they would give me a belly ache.

I remember:
Walking down the garden rows with Grandpa. He would stop every so often, look over a plant, pull off two leaves – one for himself and one for
me. We would walk, eat and inspect the garden. I can still see big Grandpa and little me. I can still feel the warm feeling of being with Grandpa. I can still remember being curious and interested in what he was doing. I can feel his serenity.

I remember:
Walking on the path from the house to the barn. A wasp was on the path. It seemed to me that every way I moved to get around him – he moved that way too. I couldn’t get past. I began to cry. Grandpa came from the barn, picked me up and over the terrible monster. He held me for a minute, put me down and we began our walk – together.

I remember:
A pantry in our house – one with many shelves and bins. My mother always kept it full of canned goods, staples, and on the top shelves - special things. I loved to go into the pantry and wonder what all the things were and what they were used for. I would stand there in the middle and slowly turn around – looking at everything. One of my favorites was a little brown wooden box. When I asked what it was, I was told that it was Grandpa’s and he kept special things in it. The answer was given in a manner that said the subject was closed. I never saw it moved.

Some years ago when my mother was in her early 80’s and the pantry was really being cleaned out, my mother said, “Mary Elizabeth, do you want Papa’s old box?” Of course I did!

Now I use the little brown box to hold props for my storytelling gigs – a nesting doll, a ghost made out of Kleenex, a dog biscuit, a felt mouse, a painted stone (like a house), etc. So, the box and Grandpa are still a big part of my life. His life and values left an early imprint on me, an impressionable young child. The little brown wooden box is my touchstone with my Grandpa, anytime I touch it I feel him near.

Grandpa McGee died when I was 5 years old.

Mary B. Summerlin

Bathrooms

When my son, Jeff was 3-5 years old, I knew where every public bathroom was in Dutchess County. Anytime we went somewhere, anywhere – the first thing was “Mom, Mom I have to have to go to the bathroom.” You know the pained look, the crossed legs, and the message from his eyes that if he doesn’t go immediately, I’ll be sorry. That is not a request one can easily ignore – there are dire consequences. So we would hurry off to the bathroom. Frankly, I think most of the time he just wanted to see more of the restaurant or store or wherever we were. Sometimes, I think he just wanted more attention.

Perhaps my bathroom story starts even earlier than that. When Jeff was three we were living in an old school house that we were remodeling. When we began this project, it had no electricity, no plumbing, no heating, no bathroom – just 4 walls, a roof and boarded up windows. We had an outhouse. Imagine the feelings and frustrations of having a 3 year old and having to manage the timing and trips to the outhouse. Jeff & I traipsed out to the outhouse in the rain, snow and darkness. You needed lead time – you had to put on appropriate clothes, rain coat, heavy coat, boots, get an umbrella, whatever. Then you got there, and here is a 3 year old trying to do his business while snow is flying in through the cracks and his mother is saying hurry up hurry up.

Oh, that was an interesting time. My best Christmas present ever was when my then husband gave me a flushing toilet!

Perhaps that was one of the reasons Jeff always wanted to go to the bathroom whenever we went somewhere was, there was a novelty to it. It certainly wasn’t like the one we had at home. But after a few years he outgrew the need to check out all the bathrooms and besides was old enough to go by himself.

So for 40 years or so, I forgot about bathrooms. They were not on my priority list. BUT since a few years ago, they’re on my priority list again, in fact very near the top. But this time, it’s me that’s the problem. Once again I know where all the public bathrooms are in Dutchess County.

I have learned that as the body ages, all sorts of new and different things happen. You can’t expect to eat as you did as a young adult. Your stomach says, “ No, No, No. You’ll be sorry if you eat that or if you keep on eating.” Your metabolism says, “ I’m not going to hurry up or work as efficiently as I used to.” My legs say to me, “What do you expect? We’ve worked for you for many many years doing exactly what you wanted without a squawk. By the way, we don’t think we ever remember you ever saying thank you to us. Now, we’re tired, you’re heavier – you really think we’re going to hurry up and run around like we used to. No, No No. We’ll go slow and easy and by the way – we want to rest fairly often.”

My ankles and feet are swollen so the Dr. gives me water pills. Do you know what that means? It means that you go to the bathroom often and urgently. I’m also taking other medications – ones that make my mouth dry, I spend the day – drinking water and running to the bathroom, drinking water and running to the bathroom. Somehow that seems a little ludicrous to me. What am I? A pipe?

Since the time Jeff was little much has changed – stores have closed, stores have been remodeled, malls have opened, and downtown is not a popular place anymore. So the knowledge I had that served me so well back then is no help at all now. I’ve had to start from scratch. But since this has been going on several years, I’ve made great headway. If you are ever going somewhere with me and need to go to the bathroom, it will be no problem. I’m sure I’ll know where the closest one is, the easiest one to get to, the cleanest one, the one that you can get to with no steps, the one that requires little walking . I bet I can answer any requirement you have. It’s absolutely amazing the skills that can be developed. I nominate myself as the Best Bathroom Finder in the area.

Meditation

A few years ago I went to South Africa with the People to People Ambassador Program – a delegation of 60 storytellers from all over the USA. We were part of a cultural exchange program – we told stories to the storytellers of S. Africa and they told stories to us. It was an extraordinary time. I would like to share one observation with you.

While in Cape Town I went with a group to Robben Island which is where Nelson Mandela was held in prison – solitary most of the time for 18 years. He was in prison longer than that but 18 years here. An ex-inmate was our guide. I saw Mandela’s cell and was shown the limestone quarry where he and other inmates worked under the very hot sun with no shade. The picture is: a blue blue sky, white white limestone and the hot yellow tropical sun. The guide pointed out that the “powers that be” really made a big mistake – they sentenced all the political activists – the best minds in S. Africa to the same prison. While they worked in the quarry they talked – about what the new constitution should be – they learned to compromise – to negotiate – about what life should be like when they got out. Plans were being made for after apartheid.

At the beginning of the road that goes into the quarry there is a pile of rocks – everyday rocks, nothing special. The guide told us that one day as Mandela was leaving the quarry, he picked up a rock and dropped it – all the others did the same. The result was a pile of rocks but symbolically it represents so-o-o-o-o much more. It was an expression of unity - as a group there is power and strength and there was the understanding that we are all interdependent and interconnected. I am overwhelmed with the thought that a group of men who are living in tortured and brutal and barren conditions can have the understanding and spirit to create such a symbol. They understood that their stories, their lives and their future were all connected.

I'm Sorry, Mama

It sure took me a long time to get around to it BUT I’m there. Today I was washing dishes by hand and remembering long long ago when my sister and I were the official dish washer and drier at our home. That was before everybody had a dishwasher.
My biggest complaint was that Mama used every dish in the kitchen and every utensil. I was sure she meant to, that she worked at it, that she planned it. It was a scheme to make me have more dishes to wash. My teenage self just could not see how one person could dirty up all those dishes for just one meal. It must have been on purpose.
As I washed dishes tonight, there were so many and I am the only person living here, I realized that long long ago time when I complained I was not right. “I’m sorry, Mama.” I now know you didn’t dirty all those dishes just to aggravate me.
I find it amazing that it takes a lifetime to understand some things – nothing earth shattering, just everyday things. I remember that your motto was “get up early and get most of your work done in the AM”. Then the afternoon was for easier tasks, catch up tasks and of course a rest time. Amazing, that concept I understand and agree with now. It only took forever for me to get there – I thought sleeping late the height of luxury. Another theme was “tomorrow will be better”. This was particular true if it was bad news and received mid afternoon or later. The implication being – I can think better with a fresh mind. Yeah, you’re right. And when any trouble came our way “this too shall pass”. Over the years this concept helped me get through many a crisis. Understanding that the terrible crisis would not be forever did help me get through it.
Thank you Mama for your wisdom and I’m sorry for my complaining.
Love, Mary
12/30/10