Taller than a Goose

Christopher Robinson made Pooh promise to always remember “You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

That’s because Christopher Robinson never met Silv…

For those of you who have never had the pleasure of meeting Silv, it’s too late. She died about ten years ago at the ripe old age of 93 and the intimidating stature of 4’ 11”.   I used to bring her with me as a ‘grandparent’ helper when I taught in Baltimore City because the kids were more afraid of her than of the school’s police. Silv didn’t yell. She didn’t even raise her voice. You did what she said and you didn’t ask why.

I really do have a point…it’s just taking a while. In the great Nature vs Nurture debate, there’s no winning this one since Silv is my maternal grandmother (i.e.: nature) and my mom needed a lot of breaks from her placid, even-tempered daughter (i.e.: nurture). After almost a decade, my therapist assures me the scars are healing nicely (sort of like the memory of the horrible, searing pains of childbirth) and I can proudly say: I am brave. I am strong. I am smart.

I am Braver than you believed.

I went in for my mammogram, which quickly turned into an ultrasound, and then a visit from the doctor who reviewed the imagines.

Me: Well Doc… you look like you’ve been in the profession for a while… just sayin’. What do you think?

Doctor: I have been practicing for a few years and I’ve seen this size and shape before. It’s usually not good.

Me: I have a giant hole in my pocket that I just filled with 100 pennies. How many of those pennies are falling out?

Doctor: I’m guessing you might drop about .65 or .70¢ on the ground. Are you going to be okay?

Me: Why wouldn’t I be? I have .35¢. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go sew a pocket hole and find some lost change.

I am Stronger than you believed

The day I was checked out of the hospital, it was by a young resident who had a difficult time making eye contact. Poor guy… didn’t even see it (er… um… me…) coming.

I had been waiting since 9:30am fully dressed and de-IV’d, pacing back and forth between my room and the nurse station for 5-hours. She finally checked the order to discover a ‘processing error’ which she promptly corrected (to be rid of me… who can blame her). Badabing, Badaboom… 30 minutes later…

Me: Let’s get this ball rolling. What do I need to sign?

Doctor (looking at the computer and the floor): Just these papers.

Me: I need a script for ibuprofen please.

Doctor: (looking at the computer) I don’t see it ordered.

Me: Dr. Wallace ordered it. I saw her last night.

Doctor: (still looking at the computer) I do have Tylenol with codeine or Oxycodone.

Me: Don’t bother. Don’t want it. Don’t need it. Don’t take it.

Doctor: But you have to (looking down). It’s been ordered.

Me: Pick up your pager. Push in some numbers. Get the ibuprofen. Ditch the narcotics.

Doctor: (looking at the computer) Um. Uh. Okay. Hold on. I’ll be right back.

Me: I know how this works. You leave. I wait. And then wait more. Hang out here with the computer and your pager.

Doctor (look at his pager): Okay.

And the scene closes with me pushing Gretchen in the wheelchair out of the hospital room and down the hall.

I am Smarter than you believed.

Pooh’s response in confirming his vow to Christopher Robinson, “We’re braver than a bee, and, uh, longer than a tree, and taller than a goose… or, uh, was that a moose?”


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