Small Smiles #2

TEDDY in the OR

One day a little boy and his parents left home and drove to a hospital in a far away city. That evening Mom and Dad left the lad to the nurses’ care, for he was to have an operation the next morning. Nervous and very homesick, the boy clung tightly to his only comfort, an old teddy bear. Teddy was a scruff and had lost an eye somewhere along the line, but he was ever so precious to the boy that scary night in the strange place.

The next morning the lad was transferred to a stretcher and wheeled down to the operating room, still clutching the bear. The orderly told him he’d have to give it up; it would get in the way of the good doctor operating. Besides, he wouldn’t want to see poor teddy accidentally get a cut or poke, would he?

As they were prepping the boy for surgery a nurse reached for the toy, but the surgeon shook his head. “Let’s leave Teddy right where he is, shall we?” With a wink at the nurse and the anesthetist he added in a kindly tone, “I think he needs a little attention, too.”

The surgery went well and soon the boy was opening his eyes in the recovery room. First thing he saw was Teddy, still lying in his arms, but now with a bandage over its forehead. The lad lifted his bear up to have a closer look — and two eyes looked back at him.

Small Smiles #1


One day a young girl had a mishap at school and cut her chin severely. Her mother drove her to the Emergency at the Vancouver General Hospital and soon a doctor was busy putting stitches in her chin. At one point during this painful process the little girl looked up at him through her tears and asked, “Do you make your own clothes?”



Reblogged from Christine



The way I do everything these days. I walk slowly, I work slowly. I even talk slowly — a new phenomena for me.:) Nowadays it seems to take my brain some time to sort out the word order for what I want to say.

The only thing I do fast now is to fall asleep when I sit down with something in my hands to read. Unless it’s a real adventure tale, I’m soon zonked out in the recliner. It’s rather pathetic now, but morning, afternoon and evening, you’ll find me in the recliner having an hour-long nap.

Yesterday was a real case in point. We got home from the city at 6 pm and I slept most of the evening. However, I class that as “trauma recovery time” after my CT scan in the afternoon. The scan itself was easy enough, but first they had to put in an IV and my veins kept breaking. The one technician tried on one arm, then another fellow came along and tried three different spots on the other arm and hand without success. Three nice sticky cloth bandages marked the spots.

So they sent a young lady in with two flannelette sheets to wrap up my arm, which, she said, should help to bring the veins more too the surface. The she tried again in the one hand. Nope — another sticky bandage. Each effort hurt like a bee sting! So I told her, “Just one ore try.” She was really nice about it, but she pulled off the first bandage and slapped and rubbed the inside of my elbow awhile, then tried again in a different vein close to the first poke. Finally that worked and I went on to have my scan.

When I left that area of the hospital my arms were splotched with bandages and I wasn’t stepping any too lively at all. And I really haven’t been since. So, as far as I’m concerned, Word Press has picked a very suitable word for today’s prompt, perfect me to write about.

After we left that hospital (around 3pm) I was finally allowed to eat dinner, so we stopped at Grainfields, a pancake restaurant much like Smitty’s. I ordered a plate of pancakes with strawberry topping, and they were so good! Three huge fluffy pancakes, so easy to eat! Just what my tummy needed after my ordeal. I took my sweet time, ate them all and called it supper!

I see that heat has been an issue in a lot of places this summer. In the CT scan waiting area yesterday there was a TV screen showing scenes of drought and weather maps for different parts of the continent. According to the weather folks, Ontario is in for more scorching weather and parts of the US were suffering the same. I’m so thankful our weather has been moderate this summer and always cools off at night.

Actually our weather has been very un-Saskatchewan-like because we’re getting severe thunderstorm watches and warnings almost every day, it seems. Hubby told me there’s another one for this evening, and I see our sunny skies have clouded over now. It hasn’t rained every day, but far more often than one would expect here in July, with some real downpours on occasion, with some tornadoes touching down here and there.

Last week a storm system south of us, traveling east, produced a tail that touched down about 70 km/40 miles SE, as the clouds fly, and ran around the ground a ways. The one that passed over us thankfully kept its fingers to itself. I’ve been doing a lot of cloud-watching in the past few weeks, which takes no movement on my part.

Just got a notice that the library books I’ve ordered are in, so I’d best head off to Delisle (our closes library) to pick them up. I really appreciate our online library service, which now offers e-books for downloading as well as inter-library transfers of hard copy. “Long Live Libraries” is my motto.

Wishing you all a great weekend.

Summer Sunshine

It’s a beautiful summer day here on the prairies, warm but not really hot. I’m hearing the hum of our riding mower as I’m typing this; hubby has decided this is great weather for cutting the lawn. I have some sewing lined up and want to start working on that shortly, but first a long-overdue post to let you know things are going fairly well right now.

I wrote about my chemo consequences last Thursday when I was feeling pretty down about it all. Then Friday morning I woke up feeling much improved, had more energy, was able to stay on my feet and get something done for a change. Perhaps my body was finally getting a grip on the side effects and/or perhaps my improvement was the result of prayers offered on my behalf. Whatever the case, I’ve sure been thankful for the better week I’ve had. Thanks for your prayers everyone.

I’m booked for a ST scan tomorrow afternoon to check the internal effects of the chemo-therapy, to assess how effective its battle has been against the leukemia. In the first CT scan I had they found swollen lymph nodes here and there plus my spleen was enlarged. Hopefully those symptoms will all have disappeared by now. I’ll consult with the doctor next Friday, then #5 treatment is coming up the first week in August.

I still get a really bad taste in my mouth after I eat certain things, and that lingers for about an hour or so. Much worse after certain sweet fatty foods like chocolate, pastries and ice cream. One of my favorites, coffee, tastes awful these days so I’ve replaced it with tea. The foods that work best for me now are things like salads. In fact when I do get a bad taste, I can almost banish it by munching on celery. Maybe my taster has decided to take my dietary preferences to task after all these years of decadence?

Our poor cat, Pookie, has been in recovery mode for the past couple of days. It’s obvious he got into a scrap with something during the night or early yesterday morning, because there was white fur fluffed around on our step. And he came in with a few punctures; since then he’s mostly been flat out on the spare bed or in an office chair.

The prairies have been decked with golden patches now, since the canola fields came into bloom. And the sloughs are filled with waterfowl. One morning we were on our way to the city when, coming up to a large slough beside the highway, we met a Canada goose family out for a stroll on the pavement. Looked like about ten rather ungainly young ones—all neck, it seemed—plus their parents urging them to hurry and get off the road.

I haven’t seen any humming birds at our feeder lately, but several times I’ve seen an oriole slurping away. One morning one large bird must have attacked another in midair not long before I looked out the front window, because there were whitish feathers laying around on the lawn. We looked around but no sign of an injured bird, so who knows. By afternoon a busy little sparrow had gathered these to feather his own nest.

And now I’d best leave off computing and get back to my sewing project. Thanks to all of you who read and follow my scribblings. As I said, I appreciate your kind thoughts and prayers with regard to my health. Wishing you all (in North America) a great evening and readers overseas either a good night or a good morning, as the case may be.

Midnight In the Pantry

by Edgar A Guest

You can boast your round of pleasures,
praise the sound of popping corks,
where the orchestra is playing to the rattle of the forks
and your after-opera dinner you may think superbly fine
but that can’t compare, I’m certain, to the joy that’s always mine
when I reach my little dwelling—source of all sincere delight—
and I prowl around the pantry in the waning hours of night.

When my business or my pleasure has detained me until late,
and it’s midnight, say, or after, when I reach my own estates,
though I’m weary with my toiling I don’t hustle up to bed
for the inner man is hungry and he’s anxious to be fed;
then I feel a thrill of glory from my head down to my feet
as I prowl around the pantry after something good to eat.

Oft I hear a call above me: “Goodness gracious, come to bed!”
And I know that I’ve disturbed her by my over-eager tread
but I’ve found a glass of jelly and some bread and butter, too,
and a bit of cold fried chicken and I answer, “When I’m through!”
Oh, there’s no café that better serves my precious appetite
than the pantry in our kitchen when I get home late at night.

You may boast your shining silver and the linen and the flowers,
and the music and the laughter and the lights that hang in showers;
you may have your café table with it’s brilliant array
but it doesn’t charm yours truly when I’m on my homeward way.
For a greater joy awaits me, as I hunger for a bite—
just the joy of pantry-prowling in the middle of the night.

From his book, Just Folks
© 1917 by The Reilly & Lee Company


WordPress daily prompt: feast

The Race Ahead

Here’s an inspiring article to start the day — a good comparison between physical and spiritual endeavor written by Australian biking enthusiast Jonathan Camac.

Jonathan Camac


I love cycling.

And I don’t use the word love lightly either. At times I wonder how I’d have gone on if not for cycling. It was my release – huge to me in my high school years, and I still love to get out when I can.

There are tons of things I love about cycling.

Summiting a mountain solo. Alone, but not lonely. Guided by my bike light; a hum in the darkness. Morning fog thickening as I rise higher. Sounds of my raspy breathing. The occasional dog bark or cow’s moo. The chain cranking as it propels the wheels around. Life’s problems fading on each pedal stroke. The sun rising over Adelaide – a whole city wakes from sleep. Wind in face as I’m propelled down the mountain. Sweat in hair, eyes wide open. Feeling of aching, tired legs. I’m stuffed, but I’ve never felt more alive

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