Putting the Iron in Irony

Gentle readers,

So, yes, it's true...WYM is not a fan of needles. Don't care for hospitals/doctors much. Yet, here I am rapidly approaching the nickname "Pin Cushion". In the latest episode of my medical drama, I am receiving intravenous iron twice a week starting today. It's very much in the style of chemotherapy. Yay me.

So I arrive at the hematologist/oncologist and am greeted by having two viles of blood drawn. What never ceases to amaze me is the phlebotomist always looks me in the eye and says "Which arm is better?" Now hear me out. I'm a financial advisor. Say for instance I go to a client meeting with information on mutual funds, lay the data at their feet and say "Ok, Mr and Mrs Jones, which mutual fund is better?" Well, now, that just sounds silly. That's what they are paying me for. Duh! Right?
So, why, oh, why do they expect me to look at my arm and direct them to the best possible vein I've got? Do people do this? Do they say "Well, Sally, I've got a swell vein right here. Works like a charm. Here...hand me that syringe and I'll do it myself." So, I always look the tech right back in the eye, turn on the WYM charm (why upset the lady with the sharp object that she'll shortly be jabbing me with?) and declare. "Nuh uh...the lady with the needle gets her choice. My job is to not pass out. Deal?"

And here's your daily dose of irony...I wound up being assigned 6 IV iron treatments. That's right, WYM...you get the pleasure of an IV being inserted 6 times. Pray that I don't pass out at least once.

A different kind of Mother's Day

Gentle Readers,

Happy Mother's Day to all. That's right...everybody, even the boys. Today, rather than using a constricted definition of mother, I'd like to celebrate the maternal spirit. There are some women devoid of maternal instinct and some men who have it in spades. Maternal instinct is that which makes us want to care for and protect other living things and nurture other's spirits. That instinct isn't reserved for just those of us with children nor those of us who have given birth.

Whether you're caring for a dog, cat, goldfish, rabbit, tadpole or child, whether you're protecting family, a friend, a co-worker or complete strangers, whether you're nurturing the spirit of a son, daughter, grandchild, niece, nephew, friend, godchild, or a stranger...spare a thought for yourself today.

For those of you who make mothering a part of your life whether you gave birth or not, I salute you and I thank you.

So, from the bottom of my heart to those who care for, protect and nurture...

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!!

Not so random musing item: A special wish goes out to BB for changing my life forever and for better in the most amazing way. Happy Mother's Day! No matter what else happens, we done one thing good.

Bananas over Hanah Montana

Gentle Readers,

I honestly don't know much about Miley Cyrus and have never watched an episode of her show. I know she's famous and young and the daughter of Billy Ray "Achy Breaky Heart" Cyrus. In recent days the airways and internet have been awash with the story of her "racy" photo taken for Vanity Fair magazine. I shook my head as I imagined what sort of photo this must be. Vanity Fair loves pushing the envelope so I was envisioning some sexy, slinkly lingerie, bedroom eyes and a come-hither glance. So, for purely scientific research, I eventually viewed the photo.

"Racy"? Really? Says who? Who gets to determine the use of the phrase because I want a new committee. Honestly, you can see more skin on some of the backless numbers on the Oscar's red carpet. What am I talking about? You can see more skin in lotion commercials on TV in the middle of the day. The look on Miss Cyrus's face is one of innocence. I'd called the photo by renowned photag Annie Liebowitz artsy before I'd call it racy. It's not like the girl did a spread-eagle cover for Hustler or Penthouse. You can see her back.

We really need to loosen up as a freakin' nation. Damn our Puritanical roots...damn them to hell!

Random Musing Item: How can a mere child have this kind of skill? When I ask Daughter something and she doesn't know the answer or would prefer not to answer, she simply goes lawyer on me. Here's an excerpt from a recent dinner conversation after Teacher had mentioned an event during school. WYM: "So, Daughter, how was school today?" Daughter: "So, M, how was work today?" Lean in receptively, make eye contact. WYM: "My day was good. I got lots done. How was school, sweetie?" Daughter: "And Baby Momma, how was your day?" take a big sip of milk and wait anxiously for answer. We got trouble folks, right here in River City.