ABC Easy as 1 2 3 or Simple as Do-Re-ME?

These days we cannot escape conversations around politics, the Coronavirus and the Mulroney’s. So, let’s talk about the Coronavirus shall we…  

I had gone months with no symptoms, no contact with anyone who contracted the virus and no errands. So naturally, I was convinced I had COVID-19. Anxiety came knocking and it wasn’t as pleasant as the beer delivery guy.  

The only thing that would give me peace of mind is if I was tested. As the appointment date grew closer, the lump in my throat did too (I may have been reacting to the medical masks at work), but I did get my asymptomatic self to the appointment. 

As I pulled into the parking lot, I thought I had made a wrong turn and ended up at a Charley Pride concert with the abundance of Cadillacs and white haired drivers. 

The vehicles were lined up in sections A to D. The parking attendant instructed me to pull up as close as possible to the vehicle ahead of me in line C before abruptly motioning me to stop. Wait, am I here for a COVID-19 test or an oil change? He then hollered the dreaded sentence, “it’s going to be a while.”

I selected a playlist and placed my feet up on the dashboard. Then overheard the elderly couple behind me speaking to the parking attendant. I mean, it wasn’t like either of them had anything important to do.

The couple asked if line C or B would go first. Now, I realize the pandemic has brought about a lot of change but I don’t think the alphabet is one of them.  

Later on (two hours later to be exact), a peppy nurse dressed for combat said hello, scraped the back of my throat and I was out of there eating sushi before anyone could say your test results came back negative. 

Two days later I heaved a sigh of relief partly because of my test results and partly because I was on vacation.

Above all, that gentleman seemed to forget the alphabet and this resident seemed to forget who I was…

In A Hairy Situation, I looked like I needed a haircut. Today, I looked like someone else.

Recreation Therapists don’t enter the field for praise or recognition. Firstly, because that would be the wrong reason to enter any profession. Secondly, because how can someone praise something when they don’t know what it is? 

This doesn’t upset me because compliments are difficult to receive and even more difficult to give. Therefore, if I don’t receive any, I don’t have to give any, right? 

I should mention that when we do receive a genuine ‘job well done’ from a resident, there is no better feeling. Well except, the perfect crack of the back, freshly washed sheets, someone playing with my hair and my co-worker giggling at my blog beside me. 

One day a perky resident approached me to declare, “I am so proud of you for achieving a Degree. You should walk around with your chest pushed out because of your many accomplishments at such a young age.”

I glanced around the room like I was about to steal something. 

I was astonished that she had taken the time to congratulate me, so I thanked her immensely.

When I walked away, with my chest pushed out as per her instructions, she yelled, “Of course Kaitlyn! You are now an RN!”

She may have gotten the R right, but she seemed to forget a few other letters in the alphabet.