Dahey lost a relative this week. It was one we never actually met.
R. was from the old sod, a place from which Dahey's ancestor had escaped (and occasionally returned) a long while ago. We met him through Facebook. One of his cousins actually met R. last year with her family. It was fun to see some of the family resemblance.
We knew he was a relative once we saw his photo, because he was a doppleganger for Dahey's uncle (so much so, it would have been fun to have a photo with the two of them in it). Dahey's dear departed uncle was one of those folks who traveled a lot and looked for his surname in the phone books wherever he went.
I'd suspect that's how he'd found cousin R.
An Irish blessing
May your neighbors respect you,
Trouble neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And heaven accept you.
Until we all meet again...
Showing posts with label RIP. Show all posts
Showing posts with label RIP. Show all posts
Sunday, April 3, 2016
Thursday, March 24, 2016
An inspiration: RIP Joe Garagiola
In another life, I graduated from college, and this baseball player/broadcaster/general good guy came and spoke at our university at commencement.
It was a time when unemployment for new college graduates was high. How high? High enough that employers were picky and paid you a pittance unless your degree was in demand.
I remember things from that day that don't seem important: goofing off, taking a picture with my favorite professor, watching pigeons fly into the arena (unplanned!), hanging out with my husband and my best friend. My dad couldn't make it to the graduation--he attended one of the other graduation events earlier that week--because he nearly died the month before.
To me, graduation was a victory, even though the reward--a full-time job in my specialty--was still more than a year away, after five years of undergrad work.
When Joe spoke, he told stories, of his life, baseball and left us with many words of wisdom. The ones I'll never forget were these:
"Don't take a 'no' from someone who can give you a 'yes'."
As I finally got a job, and made a career, I learned that maxim, and many other things he mentioned, were absolutely correct.
I never saw Joe in person after that day, but many years later, I got to thank him when I called into a radio show. I had been driving down the road, heard it, and called the question line.
He was kind, appreciative, and thanked me for paying attention. The radio host, too, was surprised. However, for a guy like him, it was just taking care of the folks coming up. Because that's what you do. You share the gifts you are given. Joe did that wherever he went.
And you never forget where you came from, where you were just a regular kid down the block.
RIP Joe. Godspeed and say hello to the rest of the folks you and I know for me.
It was a time when unemployment for new college graduates was high. How high? High enough that employers were picky and paid you a pittance unless your degree was in demand.
I remember things from that day that don't seem important: goofing off, taking a picture with my favorite professor, watching pigeons fly into the arena (unplanned!), hanging out with my husband and my best friend. My dad couldn't make it to the graduation--he attended one of the other graduation events earlier that week--because he nearly died the month before.
To me, graduation was a victory, even though the reward--a full-time job in my specialty--was still more than a year away, after five years of undergrad work.
When Joe spoke, he told stories, of his life, baseball and left us with many words of wisdom. The ones I'll never forget were these:
"Don't take a 'no' from someone who can give you a 'yes'."
As I finally got a job, and made a career, I learned that maxim, and many other things he mentioned, were absolutely correct.
I never saw Joe in person after that day, but many years later, I got to thank him when I called into a radio show. I had been driving down the road, heard it, and called the question line.
He was kind, appreciative, and thanked me for paying attention. The radio host, too, was surprised. However, for a guy like him, it was just taking care of the folks coming up. Because that's what you do. You share the gifts you are given. Joe did that wherever he went.
And you never forget where you came from, where you were just a regular kid down the block.
RIP Joe. Godspeed and say hello to the rest of the folks you and I know for me.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
In a hurry
If we are in a hurry, there are a lot of things we don't see. We run past people on the street, in the halls, in their rooms. Just like this guy, a noted researcher in a hurry.
Some people just don't move fast enough: they're slow. E. was one of those folks. He just meandered around in his wheelchair, sometimes numbed and slowed by his brain injury. Frankly, I was surprised when he wandered into my clinic a couple of weeks ago to ask some questions. It was something he rarely did, but he needed help.
A staff member at the nursing home told him he needed to be seen at the Hotel. So when I looked into things and checked his appointments, I saw, he was right. I sent a message to our clinic nurse down the way, Q. and he/she said they'd get him on the next clinic list. I escorted E. to make sure he wouldn't be distracted and forget. Our scheduler was waiting and put him right on the schedule.
E. was happy when I saw him last week. He got his appointment, and everything looked good. "Thank you." he said slowly. I smiled and told him, "Any time, E. Just come bang on my door (pointing at it) if you have to."
He smiled, his driving cap, turned jauntily to the side and rolled out to the home's bus, awaiting him outside.
That was the last time I saw him. Today we found out that E. was found dead in his room.
I always wonder when I'm in a hurry about what might happen if I slow down. As I reflect, I see it now. I just might catch a glimmer of a light that may never shine the same way again.
Take your time and remember those little moments. They could be the last.
More later...
Some people just don't move fast enough: they're slow. E. was one of those folks. He just meandered around in his wheelchair, sometimes numbed and slowed by his brain injury. Frankly, I was surprised when he wandered into my clinic a couple of weeks ago to ask some questions. It was something he rarely did, but he needed help.
A staff member at the nursing home told him he needed to be seen at the Hotel. So when I looked into things and checked his appointments, I saw, he was right. I sent a message to our clinic nurse down the way, Q. and he/she said they'd get him on the next clinic list. I escorted E. to make sure he wouldn't be distracted and forget. Our scheduler was waiting and put him right on the schedule.
E. was happy when I saw him last week. He got his appointment, and everything looked good. "Thank you." he said slowly. I smiled and told him, "Any time, E. Just come bang on my door (pointing at it) if you have to."
He smiled, his driving cap, turned jauntily to the side and rolled out to the home's bus, awaiting him outside.
That was the last time I saw him. Today we found out that E. was found dead in his room.
I always wonder when I'm in a hurry about what might happen if I slow down. As I reflect, I see it now. I just might catch a glimmer of a light that may never shine the same way again.
Take your time and remember those little moments. They could be the last.
More later...
Sunday, February 21, 2016
He WAS a hard working man
We always liked having R. around our place at the Hotel. No matter the task, whether visiting M., his wife (and our RN coworker) on the unit or fixing something broken, he was happy and smiling.
He was a good old boy who had a whole bushel basket of gifts. He was courteous, kind, and a whiz in the machine shop. Our volunteers were stunned when he fixed one of their pieces of equipment and got his staff to bring it back to life. It wasn't just better. It was amazing. In fact, they thought they got a new one.
Today I heard R. left us. He passed away too soon. Being retired for almost two years, he was doing fun stuff until he got sick.
I thought of him when I heard this song. And we at the Hotel mourn with his wife and family today. Yes, indeed, he was a hard working man.
RIP R., because you earned it.
He was a good old boy who had a whole bushel basket of gifts. He was courteous, kind, and a whiz in the machine shop. Our volunteers were stunned when he fixed one of their pieces of equipment and got his staff to bring it back to life. It wasn't just better. It was amazing. In fact, they thought they got a new one.
Today I heard R. left us. He passed away too soon. Being retired for almost two years, he was doing fun stuff until he got sick.
I thought of him when I heard this song. And we at the Hotel mourn with his wife and family today. Yes, indeed, he was a hard working man.
RIP R., because you earned it.
Thursday, September 24, 2015
An obituary for Yogi
There is much sadness these days for all the baseball fans here in RehabLand. While we are far away from New York City, many mourn one the passing of the last great characters in baseball, Lawrence Peter "Yogi" Berra, the pride of the Yankees.
Here in the wilds of the middle of America, it ain't proper to like anything coastal. "Them people are strange" is a comment that is not uncommon. In the villages, towns and small cities, baseball is the life of summer. People come out, see neighbors, and have a good time.
Yogi, however, was someone people could identify with in RehabLand. He was a son of immigrants who grew up in St. Louis, MO and never forgot where he came from. He was tough and never let people's impression of him become his destiny. Beneath that smiling, crinkly face was a sharp guy with an eye for baseball, and how to navigate it successfully.
In later years, Ron Guidry wrote a book about going to spring training with him. I highly recommend it. It's a fun book to read.
It really wasn't over, 'til it was over, and what a life it was. Thank you Yogi for giving us a lot of smiles and excitement watching our national past time. You will be missed.
Here in the wilds of the middle of America, it ain't proper to like anything coastal. "Them people are strange" is a comment that is not uncommon. In the villages, towns and small cities, baseball is the life of summer. People come out, see neighbors, and have a good time.
Yogi, however, was someone people could identify with in RehabLand. He was a son of immigrants who grew up in St. Louis, MO and never forgot where he came from. He was tough and never let people's impression of him become his destiny. Beneath that smiling, crinkly face was a sharp guy with an eye for baseball, and how to navigate it successfully.
In later years, Ron Guidry wrote a book about going to spring training with him. I highly recommend it. It's a fun book to read.
It really wasn't over, 'til it was over, and what a life it was. Thank you Yogi for giving us a lot of smiles and excitement watching our national past time. You will be missed.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Gone but not forgotten
She got ready and she took the train to glory.
RIP my pharmacist friend (and nursing school seatmate).
I will miss you (and your caring, gentle, hilarious soul) forever. May they find a cure soon.
Saturday, October 4, 2014
A reminder
Blessed are they who are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. RIP Alan Henning
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Thursday, December 5, 2013
RIP Nelson Mandela
There is no passion to be found playing small - in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.~ Nelson Mandela
So many decisions to make...
So many decisions to make...
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Nuggets for July 3
Okay, I could have waited for tomorrow and had fireworks, but I had to post this today.
Stuff's just too good to wait, and I'll be busy keeping WildDog out of trouble (i.e. chasing errant people and fireworks.)
An interesting juxtapostion
I forgot how I found Jess's Juxtapositions blag, but I really enjoyed her post On Central Lines. Nurses: you'll never think about them the same way again. I know I won't!
RIP
You may not realize it, but if you look at your computer and see a little thing with buttons and a cord, you have to thank this guy. Who can think of computing before the mouse?
RIP Douglas Englebart, inventor of the computer mouse.
A law we need in RehabLand
If you assault a healthcare provider, you should go to jail. Period. You will very soon in the state of Texas.
If you're 50, don't ever do this
Not sure what you shouldn't do? Check this article. Some items are funny, some just look like they'd hurt.
As a contrarian, of course, I'll ignore some of the advice, like Jell-o shots. (I hate people telling me what I can or cannot eat!)
Enjoy your fireworks wherever you are!
Stuff's just too good to wait, and I'll be busy keeping WildDog out of trouble (i.e. chasing errant people and fireworks.)
An interesting juxtapostion
I forgot how I found Jess's Juxtapositions blag, but I really enjoyed her post On Central Lines. Nurses: you'll never think about them the same way again. I know I won't!
RIP
You may not realize it, but if you look at your computer and see a little thing with buttons and a cord, you have to thank this guy. Who can think of computing before the mouse?
RIP Douglas Englebart, inventor of the computer mouse.
A law we need in RehabLand
If you assault a healthcare provider, you should go to jail. Period. You will very soon in the state of Texas.
If you're 50, don't ever do this
Not sure what you shouldn't do? Check this article. Some items are funny, some just look like they'd hurt.
As a contrarian, of course, I'll ignore some of the advice, like Jell-o shots. (I hate people telling me what I can or cannot eat!)
Enjoy your fireworks wherever you are!
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Resting...
Hopefully, in peace, without the terror of drugs to haunt you.
RIP Whitney Houston.
Some of us will never forget you because of this song.
RIP Whitney Houston.
Some of us will never forget you because of this song.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Yes, Nobel season
'Tis the season again, as one of my patients reminded me, to handicap the Nobel Prizes. You don't know who's nominated, but it's fun to see who wins. No one is ever a Nobel Prize nominee.
So happy they decided to let Ralph Steinman stay a Nobel laureate for his (and two contributors) work in medicine.
RIP Ralph wherever you are. Your work will make life better for others, just as it extended your own life.
So happy they decided to let Ralph Steinman stay a Nobel laureate for his (and two contributors) work in medicine.
RIP Ralph wherever you are. Your work will make life better for others, just as it extended your own life.
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