A medical moment. . .

I have a need to talk about hospitals.  Because I've been spending a lot of time at one in particular the last ten days. That's because the "significant other" developed a nasty blood infection and is currently the resident of Room 414 at South Miami Hospital.

Mainly I want to talk about nurses and nurses aides.  They are truly remarkable human beings, both male and female, short and tall, old and young.  In Benard's world they come with names like Arlene. Althea, Amilcar, Zonaia, Jennifer, Laura, Jun and Nelda.  Jun is a young Philipino man who couldn't be more caring or helpful. Benard spent time in the Phillipines during WW2 and he and Jun have great conversations.  Nelda is Benard's absolute favorite, she calls him Papi and treats him as if he truly was a close relative.

Basically, I hate hospitals.  The farther away I can stay the better I like it.  But if you have to be in one, South Miami is about as good as it gets.  Each day I walk away wondering why someone chooses the nursing profession.  It's a hard, messy life with patients coming and going, either better or worse for the experience.  I am awed by their dedication.

Hopefully, Benard will be well enough soon to leave Room   514 and return to his normal lifestyle.  I won't miss traveling daily to the hospital to visit him and act as his surrogate.  But I will have new respect for the nurses who work there.
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Photo caption:  A shout out to the wonderful Therapy Dogs who truly brighten a patient's day. This cutie's name was Alli and really made Benard smile.

My "Christian Louboutin Moment"

I don't consider myself a shoe freak, but I do have a closet-ful of carefully stacked boxes containing some gorgeous 3 inch-heel numbers that I used to wear on a regular basis to work but haven't seen the light of day in several years.   There's a purple suede number in there that makes me sigh every time I catch sight of it.

Let's face it.  It's not a question of still fitting as much as still being able to walk with a modicum of pain and a smidge of dignity.  If you are a woman of a certain age, I need say no more.

But the deliciousness of truly sexy shoes dies hard.  I found that out again today.

I was having my nails done at Salon Trio when I noticed that one of the co-owners, Nicole, was wearing a truly incredible pair of shoes.  The shiny red underside of these sky high beauties was a dead giveaway:  "Christian Louboutin! OMG! I've only seen them in ads and in places like Saks and Neimans.  And here they were in the flesh! (You don't want to know how much these babies cost.  Think four figures to start.)

Nicole:  "Would you like to try them on?

Me:  "What size are they?"

Nicole:  "Does it matter?"

Me:  "Of course not.  Hand them over."

See attached photo for moi "standing tall" and feeling tres sexy. . .wobbling a little. . .but loving every second.

Thanks, Nicole.  It was a great moment. I simply had to capture it on camera.
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My "hands on" problem. . . .

I am convinced that my eventual undoing will be the result of an un-openable cap on a child-proof bottle.  My demise will come in one of two ways:

1.  I am in the desert (or just in the heat of a mid-summer day in Miami), dying of thirst, suffering from dehydration, with moments to go before all my organs start shutting down. But I still can't get the cap off the goddamned plastic bottle of water clutched in my feverish hands.

2.I am stricken with a rare tropical disease that can easily be cured by the miracle medication in the little plastic container that I am holding in my trembling hands.  You guessed it.  I can't get the top off this intricate little number that demands that you press down while simultaneously turning in a counter-clockwise fashion.  Forgeddabout it.

I am not kidding when I say that the new bottle caps are designed to prevent opening by senior citizens with weak hands far more than by small children.  At least small children have a Mommy or Daddy to open theirs.  I'm stuck with multiple methods of invention, none of which work as well as the significant other's strong hands, but he's not always around when I need him for that purpose.

For the screw caps on my acryllic paint tubes I carry a pair of pliers in my equipment bag, stolen from my tool box.  For the ring of plastic that seals the top of the Coffeemate Creme bottle, I have a hook-like thingy that I bought on line, that really works well. Unfortunately, that's the only thing it works on. For the top of the new Hellman's Mayonaise jar in my refrigerator, I have a flat circle of rubber that is supposed to give me leverage when I try to twist it open. Oh well, mayonaise is fattening.  I can probably do without it.  I've even been known to use my teeth on certain occasions, but nothing is more expensive than new caps for my two front teeth so I try to keep that method to a minimum.

I know there are more important problems in the world today than my inability to deal with bottle caps, so I'll sign off now.  I'm kind of thirsty anyhow. Think I'll go get a drink from my kitchen faucet.  Pretty sure I can handle that.
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Photo caption:  Even Wasabi is confused by all these implements.  Think how I feel!