Love at Distorted Sight

Roses are Red

Violets are Blue

I work in Healthcare

Where there aren’t many men to Pursue

According to Hallmark, February is the month of hunka hunka burning love. It’s also the month of hunka hunka burning cash.

This commercialized holiday promotes chocolate, wine, dinner, cards, roses, stuffed animals, jewelry and single awareness.

The time of year has me thinking back to elementary school when Valentine’s Day was so insouciant. All you had to worry about is if you’d rather have Mickey Mouse tell your classmates they are swell or a dinosaur informing them they are dino-mite. 

No matter the relationship status, everyone received valentines and no one was asked why they were single. 

However, if you attached an extra Hershey kiss to your crush’s valentines, it had the classroom buzzing.

Now as a single adult, instead of sending out paper valentines with heart stickers, I need to send out online direct messages and ‘heart’ their photos. 

Although online is the preferred route for dating these days, there are many frustrating elements to it. Especially since people often misrepresent themselves online. They post photos from 10 years ago, showcase that one time they went on a hike and may or may not be 6’1″.

This should be cause for concern if you eventually meet up in person and realize they’re shorter, older and have an odour.

Therefore, I would like to go back to elementary school where all interactions were in person and seeing someone’s face didn’t cause confusion…

In Santa Baby, Don’t Trip Under the Tree, I protected my face. Today, since my face was unprotected, it was unrecognizable. 

In continuing care, we hold care conferences between the care team and the family/resident. They are scheduled after someone moves in and annually. These meetings are an opportunity to share information, updates and concerns. However, since the meetings are only 30 minutes long, they need to be quick concerns. 

Currently, these meetings are held virtually. So for those of us who attend from our office, we can remove our medical masks.

Due to the masking mandate in our organization, it’s easy to forget what each other’s entire face looks like – especially for those who don’t have a camera (or claim they don’t). 

At the beginning of the meeting, while the resident’s two children introduced themselves, the physician appeared to be getting herself organized as she shuffled pages and scribbled down notes.

She then addressed the family, “I have met 2 out of the 3 of you.”

Our eyes darted around the virtual room like the Grammy’s audience when Beyonce hadn’t arrived yet.

Where was she seeing this third person?

Throughout the meeting, the family members would provide their input and then the physician would pause as though she was waiting for that invisible third child’s feedback.

While observing these drawn out pauses (and awkwardly maneuvering in my chair), I wondered. Since I was the only other staff member with my camera on, did the doctor think I was the third (very quiet) family member?

I am known to be the quiet one in my family, but in my family.

So the physician was about to wrap up the care conference when I interjected. “I’m sorry Doctor, but is there time for my quick update?”

She nodded and asked me to proceed. 

As soon as I stated, “from a recreation therapy’s perspective..” I caught the Doctor’s facial expression change from interest to shame.

In this moment, since I could see her face, there was an instant connection with her because I could relate to such a minor mistake.

If this was elementary school, I would gift her a car-themed valentines that read, “I like how you roll.”