The new battery in my camera works, some of the time. D. said he would get another one, but I'm afraid if it's not the brand of the camera, that it will be snitty and tell me to check it every time, but ignore me and work if I just open the battery case. I am not technologically challenged, I am just impatient and spiteful. I still live in an animated world because my childhood was so good (bad?) and I have an active (rampant?) imagination.
All the neurons are firing this week. After the intensive study of death and grief, I am refreshed by shock. I started out as a "casualty aide" or ambulance attendant in the reserve forces at 17 years old. I was the token virgin.
But all these words (distal convoluted tubule, cardiac contractility, ecchimosis and petichiae) are opening doors in my brain. Like a Beatles movie, all the doors are opening and closing and I'm not sure what's behind them, but like in a dream, I know I'll recognize it. I read "decreased Mean Arterial Pressure" and I think, "weak, thready pulse", and that's the next line! Have you ever found out you know a song?
I have not had great occassion in my last decade of diapers and piano lessons to call, "Hang Ringers". But I remember hearing it on "Emergency" when I watched TV late while babysitting. Well, I'm hanging it even before the book says it. Whew. Maybe I am a nurse. Let me check your vital signs.
Oh, knitting? Still the first of the last jaywalker socks to be experienced in the knit world. I turned the heel and am valiantly stitching- one stitch at a time- while I down load my next course work or call up all your blogs that give me so much comfort.
*Did anyone else read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance on a 12 hour bus ride?