Valentines….Meh

ImageValentines Day. Woot. Woot. I am the Scrooge of Valentines, I swear it. If there were a workhouse to send all those damned little cupids to I’d have their diapered little baby bottoms shipped off faster than you can say pass me a Hershey’s kiss.

Blackmail. It’s blackmail. You have no escape. if you’re married, or in a relationship, or you’re a parent, you’re hooped. You’d better love up… you’d better spread that chocolate joy around… a stuffy here, a sucky card & a heart shaped box there, a flower over that-a-way, some koochee koo over this-a-way.

Christmas is a holiday I can get behind. I know it’s commercialized, I know I’m being manipulated from about September 1 onward to buy, buy, bake,  cook, make, wrap, consume and stress, but at least it makes sense on an historical level to me. Valentines? Meh. Some old guy dying in a jail sends his gal a note and the people at Hallmark lose their sh*t.

I do it… I buy the sucky card, I buy the freakin’ chocolate, the little cutie stuffies for the kids, I decorate the table before dragging my butt to bed the night before, but seriously. Who am I kidding? I love them every day… I prove it by continuing to feed them. I only do this Valentines nonsense to ensure they are sufficiently manipulated and will thus provide adequate chocolate in return.

However, if somebody wants to prove they love me, they can indeed feel free to lavish any sort of gift upon me any day – February 14th need not be the only day of the year.

Ommmmm.

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For the Nurses

My daughter and I have been keeping company with some pretty wonderful nurses in our general hospital this week. It amazes me, what they do. They poke, prod, cajole, encourage, insist and assist. My gal has come through a pretty painful operation and is recovering slowly, and the nurses have been great. I would love to say the same about her surgeon…. I can’t.

It’s fascinating to observe the God Complex in action, up close. It truly shocks me that even today some doctors prefer patients (and presumably patient’s mothers) who do not ask questions. I was treated to a fabulous display of petulant rage yesterday when I asked the doctor a question…he took it to be (I guess) an insult or assault on his skill. It was the first time I have seen a surgeon yell in a hospital room. Lovely, and so good for patient morale, don’t you think?

Which brings me squarely back to the nurses. I imagine it can be incredibly challenging and sometimes draining to deal with sickness and death, with interfering and emotional families. I think it must be enormously difficult to have to be the liaison between difficult doctors and their patients. Our surgeon has a reputation for his atrocious bedside manner….pity the nurse who must step in afterward to clean up that mess.

So to all the nurses working 12 hour shifts on hospital wards with patients who don’t always cooperate, families who don’t always understand and doctors who don’t always give a damn, thank you. You help in ways you’ll never know.

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