I encountered 3-Dimensional glimpses of me today.
While heading around a corner in a creepy hospital stairway I stumbled upon another skittering woman. We both startled, squealed and jumped back. The hallway isn't that creepy. But it always reminds me of every movie or novel wherein something goes wrong in a stairwell or in the morgue. There is a reason I don't know where the hospital morgue is. I don't want to, I will not ask. I know where the psych ward is or was and you have to take three elevators and walk down seven abandoned halls to get to it. I couldn't find it if I needed to.
But, as usual, I digress. So after this poor frightened lady and I nervously twittered we headed our separate ways until she rammed into the wall. Bam. After making sure she was okay, I continued on. That is such a me thing to do. Wonder if I'm contagious?
Later on, one of our 90-year-old patients came in for a routine check-up. It was her annual visit so she got to see me today. If I live to be 90, I want to be like her. She laughed the whole time. She laughed at everything I said. I was apparently "on" today. She laughed as she mentioned a bad shoulder and a bum foot. She laughed because she couldn't quite get herself out of the chair the first time or up on the table without assistance. She may have had trouble on both counts because she was laughing.
As a little girl, I learned that it's very difficult to pour milk correctly while laughing. As a matter of fact I revisited that little lesson earlier this week. I lifted a gallon of milk to pour and just as when I was a child, I got the giggles and couldn't move forward. Really. Who'd have thought that milk could be funny?
I'm going to remember exactly how funny it is when I'm 90. When I'm an old lady I shant wear purple and red since that has long ago lost it's charm. I shall laugh.
