It’s been a ‘not quite right’ couple of days.

With the weather striving to be warmer and more spring-like, I have been trying to get outside to walk/run and work off some extra winter pounds.  Along with that, of course, is the attempt to squelch my sweet-tooth and eat less and eat healthy.  But every time I run down a certain street, the wind seems to blow just the right direction and carry the delicious smell of pizza from the local Little Caesars to my nostrils.  It’s not fair!  That sinful smell of cheesy, pizza goodness is not the kind of encouragement I need right now.

And then the other day it was time to switch the bathroom towels around and throw the current ones in the laundry.  I pulled some fresh, clean, blue-striped towels from the linen closet and got nauseous.  Why?  A few years back when Ted was living and working in Indiana while I lived here trying to sell the house, these were the towels he had in his Indiana apartment.  We hated living apart.  I hated having to visit Ted on weekends in his Indiana apartment.  Those towels brought back memories of a not so pleasant time and place.  I hated those towels.  I surprised myself at the wave of sad emotions those towels created.  It was just not right.

At work this week we had two doctors operating on the same day.  The first doctor had only two patients.  The two patients each needed a prescription from the doctor.  Nurse Laurel had the prescriptions all neatly written and signed by the doctor.  Patient number one went home with patient number two’s prescription.  Argh!  How did I do that?   Mixed those up?  It was a little mistake that made for a big mess of work to straighten out.  Patient one had to be called, pharmacy numbers had to be obtained, more phone calls followed.  <sigh>  Doctor number two had us running with fifteen patients and this prescription snafu just complicated the day.  It was not the right thing to have happened on such an incredibly busy day.

And then today.  Oh Lordy.  At work we have a small locker room where staff changes into scrubs.  Many times after a person exits the room, the door stays locked and the next person trying to enter the room to change gets locked out.  Several times, I have been called on to fetch the key and unlock the door.  Our head nurse came in a few hours after we had already gotten several patients through surgery.  She headed for the locker room and was locked out.  “Laurel, could you get the key and come unlock this door?  Someone locked it again.” She called to me.  I quickly grabbed the key from its secure hiding space and met the head nurse at the door.  With a quick turn-key motion I unlocked and pushed open the door.  Helloooo Dr. Martin!  (Name changed to protect the innocent!)  The door was locked because Dr. Martin was changing his clothes!   Oh dear, my face must have turned beet red, head nurse shouted an apology, and I pointed to her and said, “She made me do it!”  Oh that was just not right.

Fortunately, all the quirky ‘not right’ things that happened did little damage.  I smelled the lovely pizza, but did not buy one!  I was able to deal with the blue striped towels.  Both patients got the right prescriptions phoned in for them.  And Dr. Martin was almost done dressing with just a zip and a buckle to take care of and we all had a good laugh.

Bombs and a marathon?  That was so not right.  Just thinking of all those runners and spectators who were gathered for such a wonderful event only to have lives and limbs shattered.  It’s going to take a long time to get that mess sorted out.  Many people will never be the same again.  There will be nothing to laugh about.  That was not right at all.

Tears, hugs, and prayers to all those affected.

Psalm 147:3 He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds.

just Laurel