Itâ€™s been a tough day. I took my lovely wife to the doctorâ€™s office this morning for her quarterly check-up. Four years since her final treatment for cancer. It seems like only yesterday. I hate that office. We got the bad news there. Itâ€™s always pretty packed with folks. Folks waiting for the bad news. Folks waiting for good news. Folks with wigs, using walkers, terribly tired, terribly scared, and terribly sick.
I watched people trying to stay awake. Two people were trying to work the 500 piece puzzle. Several had their spouses with them and some had their kids and grandkids with them. All alone was Sister St. Dorian. Just her and God. It was kind of sad. Her big black horn-rimmed glasses matched her skirt and head covering. Even though she looks to be in her late seventies, Sr. St. Dorian rose rather quickly when her name was called. She released the break on her walker and pretty quickly left for the door. I prayed for her.
As soon as the wife went in for her results, I left the waiting room and went to the lobby of the hospital. I couldnâ€™t stand being in the room any longer.
Great news! Sheâ€™s fine. I dropped her off at work and headed to the NOBTS library to work on a chapter for the next book. On the way I saw such devastation. I forget how terrible it still is in Gentilly. I get angry and depressed when I drive through my old neighborhood. â€œGuess theyâ€™ll never convict Jose Vazquez, Jr.â€™s murderer,â€ I thought as I drove past Vasquezâ€™s restaurant on Gentilly. It hasnâ€™t been touched since Katrina.
Got to the library, made a quick run through the New Orleans Blogs and saw another jerk is using the floods in Iowa to trash New Orleans. I love it when someone who’s never been here explains why Katrina was our fault. It really sucks around here. I know it could be worse. A lot worse.
Sometimes I feel like the luckiest guy in the world. Other days I feel like Sister St. Dorian. Alone in a scary place. Just me and God. Gotta hop up now. Got work to do. Canâ€™t wait to pick up Shirley Jr from camp and Shirley Sr from work. I owe the little one a snowball. Weâ€™ll go by Pandoraâ€™s. Life is good.