lol, it would be alot more than that, lol.
lol, it would be alot more than that, lol.
Now even though we didn't get any TP today at the scary radio place, I did get a smile! I think, I faintly, heard a chuckle. We had so many returns today, clothes that were washed, worn, and tagless today that I said, "what do we look like the Goodwill?"
We had to start reading the reciept to people where it clearly, states, no used clothing of any kind will be taken back.
I did have a robotics engineer come in today, he installs the robotics in OR's, which the surgeons use from another room, no need to even scrub up, they operate from another the other room, doing heart surgeries, anything... He is one of my repeat customers buying hundreds of dollars of supplies, special orders, etc, which I calculate on my 30 plus year old calculator which he said today, " you know they don't make those metal covers anymore" and, this slipped by me, until, he left. Which then, I laughed, cause the cover is covered in duct tape. lol. I got called away on the phone, so, the boss-lady was finishing putting it into the computer, and over charged him by 257.00. So, he comes over to me, saying, " I think, she added this up wrong" so, I checked, and told him " no, she is right... that is my tip."
Well, I 've been working on a book. Several. But, not one on employment. Employment factors in on one of the them. In the context of how awful the medical field can be to those in need medically. Sensitivity goes a long long way, and some angels of mercy are demons of destruction. Like the 2 who back in 98, when I was pretty new to the world of the big C, couldn't had made it harder if they wanted to. I was being pushed into surgery for removing a node when the 2 nurses carried a conversation right over my face. The one asked the other one, " is she terminal?" Well, "she" answered. I told them, " I can hear you, and, I got a name, and no I am not terminal thanks." That should had been a clue to how the medical field can be, but sometimes I can be dense. It took yet another time for me to realize, many are in it, for only the money. I always resented being a patient, for it meant I was someone else's work, their gainful employment but, I didn't realize just how much until years later. I entered the " medical" in other ways, after my diagnosis, because I wanted to make sure I experienced it from both ends. What I found out, was I hate it on both ends. I remember reading a long time ago, when I first started to realize the insensivity of those in the field, an obituary. Oh, one would think, if you got cancer, you would shy away from it, but, instead, you become like a magnet to it. This particular day, I read a large write-up about a woman who just died from breast cancer, and her sister, who wrote that article, at least got it printed for her sister, stated her dead sister's feelings about the medical field. It entirely, matched mine. Up to that point, I couldn't find anyone who would be honest enough to say, " yes, I agree, I have experienced it, too." Nope, it doesn't work that way. Alot of people won't say anything negative for fear it will come back and bite them in the ass. I figure I have already been biten so what is one more bite. So, some of my interesting stories are not always funny, some will show my anger. And, you know what? that is okay. It is okay to be angry when someone mistreats in while you are only trying to save your life. I am not saying, all, was or is, bad, their are some great and kind people to me, but, then, their are those you got to wonder where their heart is. That is the truth. And, any cancer "patient" which I hate to see myself as, will tell you that if they want to be honest. I have experienced things that would curl Mother Theresa's hair. The meaness. And, then, those ...
... those, who while you are trying so desparately, to regain your footing, will see you as you don't fit in, and give you a rip-roaring time. Those... people, will make you prove yourself harder than they would any healthy person. I have been there, infact, with the scary radio place, I am there. They hate me. I asked myself why a thousand times, because I am sweet, I smell good, lol, I look good, I got hair, you can't see my battle scars, and I am smart, well, I think, it is called.... a slap in their face. It happened to me, they ask theirselves, " can that happen to me?" and, like I am contagious, they want me out. Well, I aint' going. lol. They wonder, if it did happen would they be able to have the good attitude I got? My GOD, they can't smile or laugh now. A cancer diagnosis would destroy them. Their are those like that. And, that is okay, too. I laugh them all off. Like the medical field, who treat me, like I am invisible.
Which brings me to my other book. It is a children's book. About the love of my life, Thomas. Thomas and Robert are my cats. And, sometimes, most times, they are better company than humans. So, I have to write about them.
I have been writing a wonderful book, which even though my mom is deceased, she named, not evening knowing it, while I was growing up. It is about ...
... might leave that, so, I can make some money when I make you buy it.
The first book is about challenges in life. My challenges. None of which most people could ever relate to. I hope it will inspire others not to give up.
I think though the book I love the best is The Little Red Bread Wagon. It is about my red PT Cruiser I had. We called him Flash. He was flashy. He was fast. He loved his new shoes he would get and enjoyed feeding the birds. I am almost finished with that book, and it is dedicated to my husband. We had alot of fun together. Look for it on your supermarket shelves. ;)
Now, Bob, my cat Robert is 23 years old... we call him, Bob...
he tells all the girl cats he is french, and his name is Roe-bare, and he wants to make wild passionate love to them.
Right now though, his feet hurt.
Roe Bare is a cool cat. He has learned many skills including talking. He came to us at 6 weeks old, and he would sit on the bedroom steps next to me, while I called for my youngest for school. I would call my son, he would go, " meow, meow..."
My kids do not remember life without Bob. They are Irish Twins, and very young when we got Bob.
At age 12, my youngest told me to stop calling his name. He was home alone and heard his name being called from the other room, the diningroom. When he walked out there, Bob was sitting none the less on the table looking directly at him, saying his name.
I didn't believe this for myself until, late one nite. His bedroom was directly across from ours and we heard the voice of a seemingly, old man, calling his name. Twice. Next, I heard, " MOM! TELL BOB TO STOP CALLING MY NAME, CATS CAN'T TALK!" I had to pull the sheets over my head so he couldn't hear me laughing.
This became a nightly thing, with me ending up going across the hall, picking up the talking cat and taking him downstairs.
Eventually, he stopped the spooky stuff at night, now, only sits at his food bowl and waits for him to come in the kitchen where he says his name, wanting food.
Roe Bare, roe bare...
I don't know if you guessed this or not, lol, but, I love to tell stories about my cats. And, have for years volunteer at the children's hospital, and the local library. I do the kiddie corner.
...I find it very... rewarding. ;)
Yeah, I could easily become a animal hoarder, lol. But, I like a clean home. That is really nice of you to do that with the ferals. I have a friend, who does the same. They are now pets and well taken care of, too. Bob, 1.5 years ago, was getting older, so, my young son thought I needed a newer cat so he rescued Thomas,who looks just like Bob. I told him back then, if Thomas lives to be Bob's age, I will have looked at the same cat for 42 years. Thomas came with a note attached. The vet thought he was deaf and had a hernia. Well, he had a hernia, but, so far as being deaf, he was a fake. He faked out the vet, but, not me. Granted it took a while, a few months but, he heard the word, " tuna" and, his head spun like the excorist girl. He is sweet. Bob is agressive, always been nearly, biting the tip of the nose off of my sister in law. Hey, I warned her not to pet him. He doesn't take kindly to it. He is not a people cat. He tolerates me, loved my husband to pieces, ( he was his cat) and, adores my son. Thomas is mine. I am never quite alone. My son thought he was attached to me by an invisible leash. He goes I go, I go he goes. Plus, he eats bugs. He is a lean mean bug eating machine. Then, he wants to kiss me, yeah right. Not with bug breath.
A woman goes into the local newspaper office to see that the obituary for her recently deceased husband is published. After the editor informs her that the fee for the obituary is 50 cents a word, she pauses, reflects and then says, "Well, then, let it read 'Fred Brown died'." Confounded at the woman's thrift, the editor stammers that there is a 7-word minimum for all obituaries. The woman pauses again, counts on her fingers and replies, "In that case, 'Fred Brown died: 1983 Pick-up for sale'."