Would You Like To Have My Jacket?

I am currently employed by a retinal specialist and surgeon. I give vision exams and poke people in the eye all day--over and over and over again. I know, I know--it's not what anyone would ever expect me to be doing with my life, myself included, but for now it's paying the bills and keeping me from withering away to nothing. It's not something that I anticipate ever growing to love, and some days my only sanity is knowing that I'll find an escape from it eventually. But I'm very grateful to have a job at all in these times (seriously--who gets laid-off twice before they're even 25?), and I'm actually learning a lot, albeit about things I never really had an interest in. :)


Anyways, one of the most common problems with the retina stems from macular degeneration, which develops with age. For that reason, the majority of our patients are elderly, and it is not uncommon for the "big E" on the sight chart to be a mysterious or even invisible figure to a patient. In addition, a number of our patients are also affected by age in other ways, including difficulty walking and severe hearing loss.


Such was the case of an elderly gentleman who came in for an exam a few weeks ago, his wife of 60+ years in tow. My co-worker took the couple into an exam room to evaluate his vision, and as the minutes passed I could clearly hear her shouting things like "Are you having any vision problems?" and "Can you see the letters on the chart?" at the top of her lungs, repeatedly. Moments later she emerged from the room exasperated, proclaiming that no matter how loudly she spoke, the gentleman was unable to hear her.


"And do you want to know the craziest thing?" she asked me, shaking her head in frustration, "After I scream something at him for fifteen minutes, his wife then repeats it in the softest, gentlest voice in the world, and he answers! Somehow he hears her."


It was a silly situation, but somehow that statement was beautiful to me. It's hard for me to put into words how the thought impacted me. Over sixty years of love, marriage, and friendship had bred a familiarity so intimate that although most sounds of the world had long since stopped penetrating the man's senses, he still could hear her voice.

Somehow he hears her.

Later that day, as the couple waited patiently for the doctor to come into the room, as I was rushing by I overheard the woman say that she felt cold. Her husband asked her to repeat her statement, and she kindly did, in a slightly louder voice that was still anything but a shout.


"Oh," he said when he understood, then without hesitation added: "Would you like to have my jacket?"


That small, tender consideration reinforced my earlier thoughts about the couple. The sweetness of his simple desire to make her feel more comfortable was once again beautiful to me, and made me reflect upon the sweet and simple things that I have in my life. I learned in that instance the power of love and devotion, and also the opportunity that I have to learn and grow every day from every situation. Even though my job is nothing I ever wanted, this, and moments like it, are a highly unexpected silver lining.

blue jean ramble

I'm wearing jeans at work today. Is it ridiculous that I'm so happy about it?

Kidd Kraddick in the morning cracks me up.

I have a cold again. I hope it's better by Sunday or else I just might have to miss nursery! ;)

This song is in my head: Just around the riverbeeeeeeeeend! I look once more, just around the riverbeeend, beyond the shooore....she should have married Kokoum.

For the first time ever, I've been following American Idol. I don't have a favorite contestant yet, but I'll keep you posted. Just so you know, every time I think a person's singing is not that great, the judges love them. I guess that's why I'm not in the music business.

Our office is treated like the ugly step-child of the college. Everyone has fancy displays and colorful magnets to give away at the college fair and we have a science fair board (with cobwebs on the back) and used confetti.

Every book I check out from the library is stupid. How do these people get published? I can't usually even get past the first chapter.

I wish everyone could see the ugly pamphlet sitting on the rack across from my desk, that I have to look at every morning. Its cover has a drawing of a girl in a hideous 1980s sweatshirt (I think it's been sitting there for a while) and comb-over-looking hair, wearing a horrifying look of unchecked rage, hatred, and malice on her face. I think it's a rape prevention pamphlet. I think they're onto something.

We have got to get some new reading material for this office. That pamphlet is embarrassing.

I think I would like running more if I was as fast as a cheetah.

It's going to be a long day.

officially famous

Apparently our college puts out a newsletter every month, though I've yet to see one in the five months that I've been working here. My boss is very excited that this month our office was asked to contribute, and decided that since three of us are relatively new (we all got hired around the same time), she was going to introduce us by spotlighting each of us in this month's issue with little mini-biographies!

Imagine. My. Joy.

So, after writing the stupidest bio about my background (which wasn't really about me, but actually about how wonderful our office is and the overall amazingness of the college and our customer service skills--but that's beside the point), my boss asked the three of us to take a nice, professional picture to submit as well. This is what we came up with.

I think my boss is going to love it, don't you?

a hate letter

I would not be surprised to receive the following letter from one of the students in our program (had they the mental acuity to form grammatically correct sentences). Not one little bit surprised.

Dear Stupid Caitlin,

I have somehow, through circumstances wholly unknown to you, come to be a single parent without any viable means of supporting my children. This fact alone entitles me to special privileges and financial support, and the services you offer me are my absolute right. I sincerely hope you do not expect any signs of gratitude from me, because there is no need for me to be especially grateful for the free money to which I am inherently entitled.

I have a complaint. Somehow in your bumbling generosity you have failed to give me everything I want, and my predilection to laziness and irresponsibility (which I cleverly mask with stories of a hectic schedule, because I'm sure you have no way of verifying it with the school; my, how clever I am!) deserves the maximum amount of monetary compesation your program allows, if not more.

Furthermore, I cannot understand why you ask more of me than less than the bare minimum. The demands imposed on my time by your program are outrageous. The sheer audacity of your asking me to once a month meet for fifteen minutes with a counselor is upsetting, and when coupled with your request for me to also once a month turn in a sheet of paper with my attendance record on it, it becomes downright unbearable. The paltry assistance your office offers me is not worth such effort. Sure, you purchase all my books and supplies, pay for my children's daycare services while I'm in class (and having lunch with friends in the food court), give me free counseling about my schooling and life, and even give me gas money, but twenty minutes of my time once a month is altogether too much to ask.

Also, when things don't go exactly as I expect them to, and there is a line to pick up my book voucher, in which I am expected to actually wait, it is my right to roll my eyes and suck my teeth, and express to you in every way possible my displeasure with the situation. I cannot believe you have the nerve to ask me to wait in a line. You, Caitlin, as the first point of contact for all students deserve to experience the brunt of my displeasure. You are rude and unhelpful, and really should be more amenable to giving me my money even if I haven't made the time to drop off an attendance sheet or meet with my counselor. You are ridiculous, the money is mine, and you have no right to withhold free money from me. You should just do me a favor and be an idiot who believes my lies when I tell you that I did turn in the paper, and take responsibility by saying you lost it. You should also call me every day and tell me what requirements I'm not meeting, because I can't be expected to keep track of my own life. I am, I hope your are not forgetting, a single parent.

Outraged and Abused,
PA Student

**I must post a disclaimer here, because some students are very grateful, work very hard, do have hectic schedules, and always meet their requirements. Not all of them think this way (as implied by the above letter). But some of them...oh, yes, some of them do. I'm plenty tired of their attitudes.

mr. bojangles

The neighbors across the street from us have a pet rooster named Mr. Bojangles. Mr. Bojangles is a very proud rooster, and crows to show us all how well he can do it. His lung capacity is quite impressive for a bird, I've gotta say. Mr. Bojangles doesn't like to be lonely, and crows when he's sad and alone. Nobody wants to sit outside with a rooster all day, especially one as show-offy as Mr. Bojangles, so he crows a lot about this as well. Mr. Bojangles likes pretty weather, and crows because he's happy when the sun shines. He hates being wet, and so crows when it rains or is dreary.

Basically, Mr. Bojangles crows a lot. I should be annoyed, but I actually like Mr. Bojangles. There's just something about a strutting old rooster singing his heart out that makes me smile, whether he's singing his woes, triumphs, or praises. Plus, his name is Mr. Bojangles. How could I not like that name for a rooster? It's pretty darn funny. This morning as I left for work, Mr. Bojangles was going to town with his crowing--I don't think he was even taking time to breathe. Today he's happy about the pretty weather. 70 degrees in December--I'm certainly not going to complain! :)

PS: I love unexpected little Christmas gifts from co-workers and friends! Especially when chocolate is involved! It's almost better than Christmas morning..........almost.

don't send me stupid e-mails

So, the college (where I work) has an "emergency website." I'm not really sure what that means, but it must be a big deal because they just sent out a campus-wide email (that was like 291.2 pages long) telling us about it. Yes, this website will be used in the event of an emergency on the campus. So, if the 410 building burns down, we can at least take comfort in knowing that we can log-on to an emergency website. I wonder if it has calming colors? I feel safer already. Golly gee, this is exciting.

At 2 o'clock today they're going to switch to the emergency website (just as a trial run, of course--if they left it for long students would panic, you know). I know I can't wait. I'm so glad they sent out that email.

Turkey Day: T-minus 2 days and counting! Can you tell I need a break?