A Shot or Twelve
I get nerve blocker shots every week. This journey in pain management takes place on June 19th.
I’m never in good humour on a shots day. My “snarkasm” level is high. Snarkasn is a couple steps above sarcasm. I’m agitated. I’ve related this adventure to people and a few wonder how I do this all the time, my response (with a look) is how can I not.
I’m making my way over to the docs OFFICE and it occurred to me that I haven’t shown the other side (East side) of the Market. I’m usually on the west side when I’m there, afternoon sun thing. The west side has two levels, so you can be out of the sun if you care to,
As I get to the office one of the good coffee elves was coming the other way. We chat a bit and I wasn’t pleased that the elf didn’t care to change places with me for an hour. The elf was forgiven later in the day.
On checking in, reception tells me they’re running half an hour late. This adds to the already giant pain in the ass that I already have. If I say I have a “PITA”, it is usually a literal “Pain In The Ass” and not figurative.
I don’t even count how many shots I get at each session anymore. It was 10 or 12 shots. It’ll be the same give or take a couple next week, and the next week…
I do the exit blood pressure check set my next couple appointments and leave.
It’s now past 1:00 pm and with the Market being so close, I know where I’m headed for lunch.
I’ve touted the Market and its Fare before. It was always the savoury. On this day I decided lunch was going to be a dessert. I went critical thinking on this when I saw the selections as I was cutting through to get to the upper west side picnic tables.
Eve’s Temptations and these are just a few!
Having availed my self of one of Eve;s baked goods and a fork I headed for the sunshine.
There are a few late lunchers scattered around and plenty f space to be somewhat solitary. A place to relax and enjoy the peace.
Yes this is the city core. Yes there are city noises that are usual and unobtrusive. The burbs and the boons got there sounds too, I’ve never been a fan of that high tension wire whine.
I pick my spot and make myself comfortable with my “Strawberry Rhubarb Crumble” and Ginger Beer.
After that little slice of delicious I pull out my book and start thinking about poetry.
I truly hope as an artist and teacher cursive writing is never lost. My penmanship isn’t anything to write anyone about and I love it.
Writing, especially by hand, involves a lot of not looking at the page. I do not like strike outs in my handwritten pieces. Each line and how it works with the direction of the piece is considered. When I put the line down that’s how it stays.
I had put my pen down and was looking around. Not really seeing and not really missing anything I’m seeing. The art of paying attention and not if you like.
I see one of my community friendlies coming my way and the individual stops when they get to my table. We wind up in a discussion about relationships and examining things from a different perspective. We talked about the emotionality of the matter. The triggers and drivers of behaviour and what may be trying to be accomplished.
It isn’t always easy to step outside yourself when you’ve been wounded. Sometimes we all need to bounce off another person.
I’m pleased to say that my friend went away in a much better frame of mind than when they arrived.
Me, I went back and added the 4th line to what I’m working on before toddling off.
The poetry started in the sunshine and it shall finish in the sunshine.
G.R. Hambley ©
June 25, 2018