Some stuff is personal, but what the hey

Don’t you just hate it when your morning routine is interrupted? And, I’m not referring to your bath.
I arise around 6 a.m., let the dog out, start the coffee brewing, throw on a robe and go get my Detroit News.
I come in and pour a cup of coffee with International brand French Vanilla cream, sit in my recliner, take out the classified section, turn it inside out displaying the puzzles and fold it so I can figure out Hocus Focus.
That’s what I did on a recent Thursday morning, only Hocus Focus was not there. Only then did I look at the dateline and saw the carrier had given me The Detroit Free Press.
What a revolting development!
I quit reading the Freep years ago when Jim Fitz-gerald (my only attachment to that liberal leaning thing) retired. It has practically nothing for me, but it does have a crossword puzzle, which I try to do with The News after Hocus Focus, and also after I’ve read the so-called news in the News.
I call it so-called news because so much of it is opinion. I don’t need anyone else’s opinion since I have plenty of those on my own.
Now along comes ma’dog Shayna who usually stays outdoors quite a while first thing in the morning. I think there’s a lot of sniffing to catch up on.
But, this Thursday all she seemed to want to do was go for a ride in the car or nuzzle her muzzle between my leg and the chair and be petted. What’s with this?
* * *
Enough about my worries, let me tell you a twin grandchildren story. Haley and Trevor are seven. And, they’re pretty normal. In this story Trevor is more normal than his sister.
He’s sitting on Haley’s sweatshirt that was on the sofa, but he has a stomach disorder. It’s gaseous, which according to Webster means ‘lacking solidarity.?
So, every once in a while they heard him say, ‘Excuse me.? ‘Excuse me.? ‘Excuse me.? ‘Excuse me.?
Finally, Haley looked over at Trevor and shouted, ‘Trevor, get off my sweat shirt!?
* * *
Varicose veins are bulging, disfiguring things that make owners uncomfortable and seers cringe. That’s always been my definition . . . right up until I was diagnosed with varicose vein trouble a dozen years ago.
That’s when a surgeon told me I had to have the ones in my right ankle repaired. Seems these varicose veins cause ulcers when left without a scalpel and stitching.
That went well until four years ago when the ulcers recurred. Continuous wearing of stretch socks for three years brought my skin back together again. Then, during the long hot, shorts and short-socks wearing summer the ulcers won out again.
I told you this was personal stuff, but you’re still reading, so suffer with me. This time it’s on to Crittenton Hospital’s Wound Management people.
The open sore is about the size of a quarter. Nurse Jill has taken my history while nurse DeeDee is picking away at the opening, telling me it’s full of debris. I ask if there’s any Shayna hairs in it, ’cause I let ma’dog lick it as a cure.
DeeDee said, ‘That’s for dog sores, not human.? I was only kidding.
The treatment this time involves a whole lot of wrapping and a boot.Come back next week, and the next, and the next, etc.
But, the reason I’m telling you this story is to tell you what an enlightening experience it has been to talk to these two nurses. More importantly, to have them listen to me.
I’ve always known I was a slow learner. People now point that out when I tell this story. They emphasize nurses? patient interest, advice, counseling, caring and humanity.
Jill and DeeDee have done my mind a world of good. There’s a good reason the answer to some RN questions in a crossword puzzle are TLC – Tender Loving Care.