Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Late night ramble: Poison!

I think that any well-meaning doctor should have a mental Rol-o-dex of personalized talking points to bring up when their patients return to see them. For some of my patients it's their grandchildren. New ones born or older ones finishing high school and getting into college. Sometimes the report includes one of those grandbabies having a baby of his or her own. That means greatgrands and a green light to start the whole bragging cycle over again. Yep. For others it's the weight they lost or the cigarettes they put down. That or the drug stronghold that they finally shook a-loose and pride they feel every time a new day passes and they haven't turned back.

Me? I take a mental inventory of such things and file it away. Slipping it somewhere in my note or sticking it on an imaginary post-it note on the inside of my head for safekeeping. Then, when I see them again, I bring it up. That grandbaby who made officer in the Marine Corps and who is on his third tour in Afghanistan? I ask how he's doing. Or the greatgrands that she decided should call her "Duchess" since she wanted something grander than just "grandmama?" I greet her as "Duchess" and watch her laugh out loud. And don't think I forgot about day my patient quit Newports cold turkey--which happened to be the anniversary of his wife's passing. Oh, and as for the congratulatory handshakes regarding another man's decade long abstinence from crack cocaine? Nope. Those handshakes never get old.

So, yeah. These parts aren't really imperative to the plan but they are a part of the relationship-building that's very, very necessary for good vibes between doctors and patients. At least that's what I think.


I was thinking of this because I saw one of our Grady elder F.P.s in the clinic not too long ago. Her "thing" to talk about wasn't grandbabies or greatgrands or strongholds or weight loss. That said, it was another very common talk point that I encounter. What's that, you ask? Oh, I'll tell you:


Yes. You read that right. Jesus, as in the one from Nazareth.

Look, man. If you work at a place like Grady Hospital which is smack, dab in the middle of the bible belt and two blocks away from Ebenezer Baptist Church where Martin Luther-the-King preached, then you most certainly will hear your share of references to J.C. (none of which are loose at all.)

Yep. And actually? It's cool. I mean, it really is--no matter what you believe--because, really, it usually means you get to hear of some testimony. Which means you get to hear of some kind of test and, trust me, that test is almost always something harder than anything I've even come close to experiencing.

So, yeah. I guess that list of icebreaker topics to touch upon should really include grandbabies, greatgrands, victories over weight/habits/etc., and Jesus, too. Sure should.

Oh, dang.

Let me clarify this before someone throws their head back and groans out that very name in vain. No, I don't roll in, say hello and then start quoting scriptures. Nope. Instead, I do what we did with this lady. Ask about her church and what she's up to in it.

Let me be even more clear--what I specifically ask about is their "church-home" because that's what the Grady elders call it when you're a sho nuff and bona fide member somewhere. Mmm hmmm. And this lady? Man. She totally was all up in her church-home. She dressed in all white and sat on the third pew as a part of the Mother's board. She was one of the ones that the pastor called by name during his sermon and the one that could be heard shouting "HALLELUJAH!" and "PREACH PASTOR!" loudest and earliest in every single Sunday service.

Oh. And when I say every single Sunday service, I mean every single one -- from 7:30 a.m. to the last one at noon. ('Cause everybody knows the Mothers in the church stay for all three services.)

Mmm hmmm.

Uhhh, hmmm. What was my point again? Oh. My. You'll be super annoyed to know that everything you just read has nothing to do with the point of this post. And I'm sure you're all like, "What does this have to do with poison?" Answer: nothing really. Well, sort of, but not really. But I am going somewhere with this and I promise I'll get on to that now.

Ah hem.

So, check it. I was talking to this dear lady along with my resident. The patient seemed a bit downtrodden this day and her resident dutifully explored more about that. She also remembered that her church-home was a big part of her life and so she asked about it to see if somehow this could help us gain more insight into why she had the blues.

"I ain't at that church no more." She didn't make eye contact with us when she said that. Instead she stared straight ahead and pursed her lips in an effort to contain what was obviously a sore point.

Now this? This was unusual. A Grady elder that's been at her church-home for over "twenty-some-odd" years doesn't just up and leave. Not even if the pastor changes or the building fund runs low. And so, the resident asked some follow up questions to find out why.

"Well. I been at that chuuch longer than I can even 'member. For years! And I always helps out with thangs and see 'bout people, you know. But then, I lost my sister, Emma Jean, and don't you know didn't nobody come to see about me from my chuuch? Not-a-one."

"Not even anyone that sits on the Mother's board with you?" I asked.

"I ain't talkin' 'bout them. They all my friends so they was gon' see 'bout me no matter what. But Pastor ain't came to see 'bout me and he s'posed to have a bereavement team tha's s'posed to come minister to you during times like that. N'an one of them came."

"But the Mothers did, yes?"

"I said they my friends so they was gon' come ir-regardless. That ain't got nothin' to do with Pastor and 'nem." Her facial expression showed us how much this had hurt her feelings. "After twenty-some-odd years there not one of them can come and see 'bout me?"

"Did they know?" I wanted to give her church-home leadership the benefit of the doubt.

"They all knew 'cawse the Mothers knew. And that ain't right. So I went on and left. Now I attend service with my son at his church. It ain't the same, you know? I miss being where I know everybody and they know me."

"I wonder if they know how much this hurt you. Maybe you could talk to your pastor to see if y'all could make amends," my resident chimed in.

"Naaw. Seem like they shoulda knew better. Even if they say they sorry, I think it's jest one of them thangs I ain't never gon' get over. Everybody know how close me and Emma Jean was." Her eyes welled up with tears and she patted their corners with the hem of her shirt sleeve. She took a big drag of air and quickly shook her head. "They shoulda knew better. Somebody shoulda called and seent about me. 'Cawse they all knew how close I was to Emma. They did."

And that was that.

We did talk to her some more about this, but her mind was made up. She had decided that she couldn't let this go. Even if it was making her miserable, she couldn't let it go.

That made me think of the day I heard a Grady elder say this:

"Being angry is like you drinking poison and expecting the other person to die."

But that was just it. She was the one with the poison on the inside of her. And it was making her sad and robbing her of her quality of life. Still. This was her decision and, as I've said here before, our own decisions to react--or not react--in certain ways to certain things can be life-altering.


But then I started wondering. What about when your mind is telling you the right thing to do or feel, but your heart is saying something else? Like, what if that Grady elder knows that holding that grudge against her Pastor and the bereavement team is just not that serious--especially not serious enough to leave the church over? And what if she is fully aware of the fact that maybe her pastor thought that the Mothers had things covered with her losing Emma Jean and that she was sufficiently "seen about" by them? See? What if she is all of those things but despite all of that logic still hurt and mad and disappointed that Pastor and his team didn't factor her twenty-some-odd years into the equation and physically come to lay hands on her in her own living room? And what if, no matter how clear it is that she should, she just can't get past it?


So that's what I'm thinking about. I'm thinking about logic and emotions and how the two sometimes can't seem to meet in the middle.

When Deanna passed away I was absolutely engulfed with support. I was called, emailed, texted, visited, fed, refed, and everything else supportive that you can imagine during such unthinkable times. People were amazing. The kindness of my friends and even strangers probably brought more tears to my eyes than anything else in those first few days.


After a several weeks had passed I was driving down the street minding my own business one day. In that moment alone, it dawned on me that I hadn't spoken to one of my very close friends at all since all of that had happened. Not at all.

But then, as I think of it, it wasn't not at all. She'd left a short note in my blog comments on behalf of her family. And had also sent a text in response to one I'd sent. But I never heard her voice. Nor did I see her face or receive regrets regarding the homegoing services despite geography that would make that not unreasonable.

How did I not realize that? Somehow, in all of the planning and traveling and running and comforting, I hadn't noticed until then. So you know what happened next, right? Of course. I drank the poison and started feeling slighted.

But, see, I am a logical and introspective person. So I did my best to immediately spit it out and counter it with the antidote. Positive thoughts!

Look at all of the support your family received!
Your blog community was AMAZING!
David flew all the way from Philadelphia to be there for you!
Falona came from Denver, Colorado. DENVER. As in, MOUNTAIN TIME!
There were over a THOUSAND people at the service! All honoring DEANNA!

That worked for a little while but then I had to ramp up my self-tormenting coaching.

Maybe she didn't know what to say, Kimberly.
A lot of people don't "do" funerals and homegoings.
It's ridiculous to let this bother you.
This should not change your friendship one bit! Ridiculous!
Grow up, Kimberly!
Don't be ungrateful! 
See this as an opportunity to know how to better support others during such times.

Then I decided that I'd just let some time pass. And not think about it. That's when my snarky inner voice pointed this out:

Indifference still counts as anger when the person is close to you! In fact, it's worse!

And that's where I stopped. And where I've been stuck.

Here's the thing. This was not just an acquaintance. This was a good, good friend of mine. One that I have told my deepest thoughts and with whom I shared pivotal experiences. One who'd met Deanna and all of my family and knew what this meant to us. And, fortunately--for me and anonymity--I do have a lot of good, deep friendships. So the point is not at all who this is. It isn't. In fact, let me even go on the record to say that this particular friend has definitely been extraordinarily caring and engaged throughout the tenure of our friendship and has no track-record of repetitive ball-dropping whatsoever. Furthermore, this also doesn't even factor in the balls I'VE dropped that I may or may not even realize or the fact that all of those things should immediately earn her the benefit of the doubt. But none of that--though true--is really the point.

No, 'tis not.

The point is more that I could relate to my patient and her hard line despite what logic and home-training were telling me. I felt myself wanting to leave the church altogether because I saw our deep friendship as something akin to her twenty-some-odd years in that church. And I felt myself counting her comment on my blog and text message as those "expected" things like the Mother's board turning up instead of the pastor.

Ridiculous, I know. And so super counterproductive, too.  I know. But like I said. This is an issue where logic and emotion don't play well together. And that underscores how broken the human mind can sometimes be.


So I couldn't pass judgement at all on my patient when she told us that. Because I'd been there--recently. And, you know? Even though when my friend and I finally did chat and I was pleasant and seemingly okay, the poison had started to work on me already. It had. I felt myself redefining our friendship and refusing to understand. A poisonous voice whispering that there was simply no good excuse for her absence. Which isn't me.

The only big difference between my patient and me in our positions is that I haven't felt nearly as sad as my patient seemed. But. I'm not a retired octogenarian with a life centered around my former church-home. I'm a full-time working mother and so is my friend. My guess is that, as far as this causing mayhem in the grand scheme of things, we're in the same place. That kind of complicates it even more.

Or maybe not at all if you're Harry and you believe that "everybody can't go."

So that aforementioned reference above was a BHE-ism that I've heard Harry say a million times. He shrugs his shoulders and says, "Everybody can't go." Which is his way of saying that every person can't be carried with you into every phase of your life. And that's fine and well if you're Harry but not as simple when you're me.

Good heavens. I am so, so rambling, aren't I? But I guess I'm just trying to work through this, you know? Yeah. 

I guess I could put all of this to rest by simply asking "What would Jesus do?" I mean, seeing as Jesus does happen to be on the short list of Grady icebreakers and all. But it wouldn't be put to rest because I KNOW what Jesus would do. He'd turn the other cheek -- the one on his face, not on his toches (pronounced took-us.) But that's the thing. Somehow Jesus seemed to avoid drinking the poison better than every other person who has ever existed.


I know me. Usually, with time, I get back to normal somehow. Or some revised yet acceptable version of normal. Which might mean going to another church for a bit and then eventually coming on back. And if that feels okay, I might get around to going back to the Mother's board and staying for at least two of the three services.

So here is what I am asking your thoughts about. . . . not WWJD, because I know that answer already. That and the answers to WWASMAPAD -- that is "What would a super-mature-and-perfect-adult do?" (See WWJD for answer.)

How do you navigate issues where knowing better versus doing better collide? And is it ever acceptable to decide that forgiving but not forgetting is a reasonable explanation for letting go of important things and people? Even if it's done subtly and without door-slamming? Or is that worse?

See? This is what you get for reading beyond my initial tangent. Now you have to comment. . . ha ha ha. . . .and yes, I at least expect props for my advanced Yiddish as demonstrated through the use of the word "toches."

Happy Tuesday Wednesday. (And Mom, it's late and this is probably loaded with typos so forgive me.)

And here's a horrible picture of another kind of Poison which is equally dangerous. . .

and some MORE "Poison" for your mental iPods to get stuck on for the rest of the day. . . .

*You're welcome.*


  1. Oh, my. This post resonated so loudly with me that you could probably hear it all the way from Atlanta to your old stomping grounds in Los Angeles. Honestly, I don't know how in the hell one does it. I especially relate to it almost daily, actually, as I continue to care for and raise my severely disabled daughter. I relate to it when someone gets cancer in my little community and suddenly that person is literally covered in food and help and well wishes. I have to kick myself when the poison sets in, the feelings of "where is my food" "where is my well wishing?" "where is my special someone to sit by Sophie while she gets her infusion?" I could go on and on, and while I generally loop it under "compassion fatigue," it needles my soul. Like poison, is right. The only thing I can do is watch it, observe it, note it, and like a cloud, let it pass by.

    1. OMG. Thank you so much for always getting my crazy, Elizabeth. I totally get what you are saying and respect you so much as a logical person that I already feel a little bit better.

      I like this idea of watching it, observing it, noting it and like a cloud, letting it pass by. I like that and kind of hope that I've been doing something like that.

  2. "I used to get I am merely amused" has become my motto nowadays. I like Harry's "Everyone can't come"...which is pretty much what I tell myself sometimes as in "Every body is doing the best they are capable of" which is pretty much how it is for me.

    1. Ooooh. I like that quote. And I also like that softer version of Harry's quote. :)

  3. Wow, just wow! I never ceased to be amazed at how the Universe and God work. I led a women's retreat this past weekend on grief and one of the themes was "Resentment is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die". It was powerful to these women, especially those that had been holding on to hurts for decades to realize that they had only been hurting themselves. Then, to realize that they could "lay that burden down" and move on joyfully (I had them walk a labyrinth with a stone of their choosing and lay it down in the middle and walk out of the labyrinth thinking about how they had been "freed" from their own mind/heart). In this life, we are truly our worst enemies. I am also going to start using BHE phrase of "Everyone can't come..." it can be a balm on the spiritual/emotional wound to think that the other person has some of their own stuff going on that makes them unable/unavailable to help, and that has to be okay, because they are taking care of themselves.

    1. Amazing that you would have just done this! I love the labyrinth imagery and the symbolism of it all. Thank you for sharing that.

  4. I understand...especially with the indifference piece and then it still festers in the back of your mind. Usually time has to heal this. It is so hard though, I know...My favorite quote is "If you expect everyone to act like you, you will be dissapointed." You can possibly take this to the level of 'I would never do that to someone who is my close good friend.' But that is you, and not them. Different people, different experiences, different ways.

  5. Hi Dr. Manning. I'm sorry that no-one saw after that elder and I'm sorry that your friend didn't just reach out to hug you. Both are really sad and hurtful.

    I have no excuse for your friend, but I know what Jesus did for me. The whole time that I was growing up there was a girl in the neighborhood who tortured me. If she saw me sitting by the pool wrapped in a towel, she'd push me in. One time she even put a pastel pink bowling ball in my back yard and called to me to kick it over to her. When I went off to college, she was someone I was pretty happy to leave behind. So a few years ago I opened up facebook and found a friend invitation from her. I was shocked and disgusted by it, but for some reason I didn't ignore the request. After about a few weeks I was convicted about it. God asked me "How long ago was it that she was doing those things?" And I argued about how really rotten she was, but in the end I knew that He wanted me to forgive her, and I knew that I couldn't. I just could not let go of it, so I said to God "I just can't forgive her, I need You to do that for me." And He said "I already did." So I did friend her and she's really a very lovely person now.

    Your situation is not the same, but I really think that if you can't get past this you should ask God to get past it for you. This is a friendship that you obviously value, I just think you should fight for it.

    So, my little sermon is done, and I'm sorry for preaching at you.

    and...I thought about going to Deanna's service. But then I thought it would be strange because I didn't know Deanna, and I've never really met you. But I was thinking about your family and praying for you. I just wanted you to know that.

    1. Thanks, Lisa. I knew you were thinking of me and I want you to know that. I know that I will eventually get past this and honestly, realize the WWJD part of it, too. The funny part is that my mind knows and my big-girl side knows, too. It's the doing it part that can be tricky.

  6. Speaking as one who just cannot, cannot do funerals (my father died when I was really young, and I couldn't go to my mailman's funeral without blubbering like crazy and looking like such the fool so I just don't do them), I wonder if your friend is like that. Speaking as one who was wronged and drank, no inhaled the poison for YEARS, I have found that it's just not that important. Let it go. You are the only one suffering, because YOU drank the poison. The other person has no idea you've been drinking it, either.

    1. Oh trust me--I know the poison isn't that important. . ha ha ha. . .and I even know that "letting it go" is the thing to do. One part of this that helped was writing about it. It helped me to spit some of it out and decide how I wanted to feel.

  7. Feel however you feel--it's important. I'm the "good" stable kid in my family and now that we're all adults (and really, we're pretty old) I find that I'm just invisible. My brother has his dramas and we all get sucked in, but when I have something going on it tends to get ignored. In my case I usually don't have strong feelings attached to this--I'm almost 50 and I don't feel the need to worry my elderly parents about every bad day. But every once in a while I wish someone would just tune in for a little. All that to say, that maybe your friend saw you surrounded and didn't think you needed her support.

    In your case, since this is a close friend I guess I'd suggest letting some time pass, and then tell her how you felt. Give her a chance to tell her side of things. She dropped an important ball, yes, but you didn't notice it until later.


    1. Good advice. And especially the insight about me not noticing it until later. I wonder what this says.

  8. The poison bit is something I'd read here before but it really hit me in this post. I don't need that poison. So I let some things go. And I felt a lot better instantly. I cherish my friends but I also have some of Harry's philosophy. I know I can't take everyone with me. I've had to leave some behind for very good reasons. I didn't do it lightly but the relationships were becoming toxic. And I've yet to hear anything about other people's relationships with those people that convinces me that anything has changed 5+ years later. Of course I still miss them sometimes but in reality, it was a drama-filled situation.

    So I guess my questions are these: why don't you talk to her about it? I'm sure talking is part of what grew your bond. Would you feel okay with her missing other big events in your life? I know the current anger/indifference may be saying SHE PROBABLY WOULD ANYWAY BECAUSE SHE'S UNRELIABLE. Trust me, I've been there. But would your life really be better without her in it?

    Talk to her. I can honestly say that I know I've dropped some balls with people I love, sometimes because I didn't know what to say. Then I thought it was too long to say what I needed to say. Then they kind of acted like everything okay and it felt off but I thought it would get better. I hope from my friends/family that they would let me know, forgive me and give me a chance to make it right. I can't fix the past, but I can do what I can to change my reaction to it and move forward to the future.

  9. I believe that we can forgive but from experience, we don't really forget. Not with big hurts anyway. What happened will likely change your relationship and that is when I think of how people come into your life for a reason and stay for awhile and then may leave and come back and on and on. Resentment leads to no good ever. She is human and as the commenter above pointed out, maybe she just couldn't go there with you. But that does not mean that it still didn't hurt you and will impact your friendship - even in a small way. Anyway, that has been my experience. S. Jo

  10. Dear Kimberly, i know this hurts, but i can't help but think your friend was reading your blog and seeing you surrounded by love and family, and maybe she thought you were covered, that you were coping, and maybe she felt that she was not so needed right then. Maybe she didn't know how to enter the situation, maybe she had her own troubles at that moment, maybe she just failed you this time, not from a lack of love for you but maybe from a lack of feeling adequate in herself. I think you should tell her how you feel, face to face, so you can both cry and hold each other. Yes, I think you should just forgive her. Just decide that your disappointment is based on expectation and release her from any expectation in the future. Maybe you will never be as close. Or maybe you will be closer, now that she knows how much it mattered. Maybe she didn't understand she was one of your true core people. Maybe a million things. But don't drink the poison. We all fail sometimes. The supreme grace is when the person we have failed can truly forgive us. I hope that what I am saying here is what I would do. I don't know, but I'm hoping. And I'm praying you get through this, with pure fresh sunlit air flowing in to fill the place where the poison lives now. I bet your sister Deanna is hoping it too. So much love, Angella

    1. Thanks, Sister Lister. What's funny is that Deanna would be standing somewhere with folded arms rolling her eyes (but that's besides the point. She would be mad that my feelings were hurt.)

      You know me. I will get past this with some time and words like yours already have helped me with the poison.

    2. I was wishing as soon as I pressed send that I could delete the reference to your sister. I'm sorry. I had no right. But you know, where she is now, she knows better than any of us how this plays in the scheme of things. I'm mad your feelings were hurt, too. But I don't want you drinking that poison, even if your friend and you will never again be close. But I would also say that if this is what ends the friendship, then it wasn't as tight a friendship as you might have thought, in which case, you might as well let it go. I'ma shut up now. Love you.

  11. what a wonderful and thoughtful post. i agree that you should talk to your friend. most likely she has no idea how much she has let you down.... or perhaps she just "couldn't go" (I LOVE Harry's quote, btw) but nevertheless a conversation with her will make you feel better.

    i was the friend who dropped the ball a few years ago. i just didn't know what to say and kept thinking that i'd do something grand but the hours turned into days and the days into weeks and then months... we both acted as if nothing had happened and i think she forgave me but i have always felt so bad about it. we did talk about it but it was almost a year later and i still think about how bad of a friend i was in that time. i didn't live in the same city as her but i always felt like maybe i should have taken the time to go visit or simply offer to... but she sent a text saying that she wanted to be left alone and i took her at her word. instead of doing what i suspected she needed me to and ignore her text....

    time will heal this but don't let too much time pass. yet i think just by writing and reflecting upon this you have already taken the first step and that is important. 'preciate you Grady Doc! xoxo

    wishing you love and peace.

  12. You might hold the record for making me cry by piercing my heart, and I swear I'm not a crier by nature.

    I can so relate to this in a couple of ways. First, I am an introvert by nature and so being alone and living in my head are constant battles for me. Those thoughts, they can run away with you.

    Long story made extremely brief, when my daughter was born she was critically ill and we almost lost her. We live 7-8 hours away from all of our family and had just moved here a few months prior to her birth, while I was on bed rest so we knew no one. No one came. I felt completely abandoned. I had to work my butt off to let it go and to not let bitterness take root. I still have to fight against it if I think about it too much.

    1. Wow. That's deep. I'm glad you shared this with me and you're so right. Bitterness is no good for anyone. Perhaps the "not thinking about it too much" approach has been mine so far--but that feels like indifference which I also struggle with. Anyways. It's hard being a grown up, isn't it?

    2. It definitely has its challenges! I think the key is, owning it and not letting it own me. I can acknowledge that it sucked and it hurt and it's ok to hurt. I don't have to deny the pain, I have to deny the bitterness. One of the hardest things in the world to get over? Unmet expectations. I have this idea in my head of what relationships should look like and when they don't look like that, it's up to me to decide how to reconcile it. As for those runaway thoughts, usually worship helps me, but sometimes you just have to do something I call uncrazying the crazy. Do something that is totally out of the box and get those brainwaves moving it different directions. Burn some new synapses and let the light in. :) Have a great week! Oh and LOL my introverted, I hate to be touched self, is jealous of your salon community. If I could go hang out without all of the hair touching, life would be good. :)

    3. I would agree -- worship helps me, too. And yes, you'd love my salon community. You can be in the mix even if you aren't getting your hair done. It's just that kind of place. :)

  13. Thanks for being sooo transparent and real...I struggle daily to rid myself of resentment I have for my dad. I once felt he made a conscience effort to emotionally and physically detach from me. Although I realize God has more than over compensated for his absence...part of me feels nothing can fill that void. Hence, my resentment(poison). I'm still a work in progress. Again thanks for the transparency, it is a blessing.~Millicent

    1. What's up, Millicent? Yeah, the poison is crazy isn't it? I appreciate you reading -- I truly do.

  14. Ooh, did this post strike a nerve with me too. First the church story. We were pillars of our church community in a small town, but when mom lost both her parents within two months not one person from the church reached out to her. When someone finally did contact her it wasn't to offer condolences, but to ask for money. That ended our family relationship with the Methodist church. To Mom's credit, she gave them a piece of her mind but the bitterness lingers decades later.
    And about that friend. So sorry. I haven't experienced a loss like yours, but I know the sadness of realizing a friendship was not what you thought it was. Silence speaks volumes. Maybe your friend has issues with grief, and has let the passage of time become too awkward. I have one friend who's silence means she's depressed and struggling, so I try to initiate contact when the silence stretches too far. Maybe you can find an antidote, a way to break the ice and move forward. You're so right though, it's hard being grown up. Hope you find the right path through this one. xo

    1. Yeah. . .I think I felt much better after just writing about it. I'm sure ultimately the right path will be obvious. Thanks, Mel.

  15. Just a bit to get your Yiddish up:

    Toochus is pronounced tuh ch (deep in your throat like gargling) us
    You pronounce it with a hard K will sure show you're not a MOT (member of the tribe) at least not the Yiddish one.

    Love your writing. It goes deep and just when you think it's hit bottom, it goes deeper.

    Be well

    1. Yes!! Commentary on my Yiddish! And a lesson to boot? It gets no better than that. Thanks for schooling me, Shosh. I am as guttural as ever on it now.

      Thanks for your kind words and reading.

  16. From the deck of the Poop,

    Dr. KD, as I read you blog I thought about a word that a friend and frat brother of my use to use when something bothered him. I thought that he had made the word up but I learned that is was a real word. He used the word when someone did something that bothered him a little but didn't really piss him off. He would say that what was said or done was "niggling" at him. Niggling is bothersome but not a deal breaker. From my nearly three score and ten years of living I believe that some nigglers never go away. Some rear their heads less frequently than others but they are there. I have nigglers that date back to high school and they involve some present close friends and relatives. There are niggler triggers and when the trigger appears so does the niggler. Example: you learn that your spouse or girl/boyfriend slept with one of you close friends before you ever met. You see the person or you are together and it niggles at you. smile. Irony: the friend that I mentioned haven't spoken to me in more that five years. I don't know exactly what I did or said but is wasn't a niggle, it was a deal breaker. (smile) Good news; the frequency and strength of the niggle decreases as time passes but never go away...


    1. You description of it -- "niggling" -- is spot on. Spot on. Thanks, Poopdeck. For reading and always having such great insight.

      Love you, ol' man.

  17. so I just had an issue with a coworker who screwed up the database, I stayed up half the night fixing it, admonished her for doing so (I am the supervisor), and we just Had it out on the phone because she's mad because she feels 'exposed'. I'm mad too because I was the one that was right! Was JUST about to head to the mall to get her a bday gift for her surprise office party today, but decided against.

    so I'm in here on a restroom break knowing I need to get back to my desk, but something said 'take a break and read Grady doctor'. (I bet it was Jesus)

    when I read 'sometimes logic and emotion don't meet in the middle' Just what I needed.

    Whether I was the logical and right one or not, sometimes it is BEST to tend to someone's feelings FIRST. I'm getting the gift.

    Right on time Dr. Kim, hope to see you tomorrow.

    *running back to desk* -Renee. :-)


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