Theology Hospital

“So what hospital are you getting your knee looked at?” my physical therapist asks.

“It used to be called Methodist, now I guess it’s Presbyterian, in Brooklyn,” I reply.

“It would be weird to have them both own it at the same time,” he says.

“Yeah, Calvinists versus the Wesleyans,” I say apropos of nothing.

Over Explaining

“We have two cats, pair bonded litter mates. We got them when they were five years old, and I think it’s ’cause their owner got sick or something and couldn’t take care of them anymore.”

Now my physical therapist, who’s been listening to me talk about my cats, is looking sad, so I switch tactics: “So we called them Wallace and Davis, which we picked from the movie White Christmas, because the women, played by Rosemary Clooney and Vera Green get married to Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye, respectively, so they’re taking on their names….”

Instead of sad, he now just looks confused, and my voice trails off.

Returning The Call

I end the call and stand up at the desk in the office, getting ahold of myself. I can feel my insides vibrating, and my skin strains with the effort of keeping it in.

I walk into the kitchen where Katie is sitting and kiss her on the forehead. I have my water bottle in both hands and I realize that my fingers are wrapped around it as if it were a neck.

Bad Timing

“Okay, well, it’s really important that I speak to them today, so please have them call me, okay?” I tell the customer service rep after waiting on hold for over a half-hour.

“Absolutely, sir, and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you more today,” he says, so I reassure him that I know he did all he could, and hang up.

After my doctor’s appointment, I walk into the library, and pull out my phone to double check for any calls. 

...and see the voicemail from the call that I missed as I was crossing Eastern Parkway to get here, not five minutes before.

Tiny Victories

“I gotta say,” as I’m putting the yogurt away, “I’m very proud of how I asked the guy to check the price on the yogurt.”

“Yeah! Good job!” Katie replies, unpacking her backpack.

“I mean the price was wrong but I spoke up for myself and got it changed, you know?”

That’s New York City

We get on the crowded train, but no seats available. Now I don’t expect people to offer a seat just because I carry a cane - why should they? And of course I don’t know what other peoples’ situations might be, but the woman with the rosary doesn’t offer, nor the young man and his girlfriend, nor any of the athletic and able-bodied looking folks on the train, and I resign myself to sore legs and a long ride into the city.

But the guy with the 40 in a plastic bag, with the hat that says “Fuck You” and the marijuana festooned socks and the facial tattoos - THAT guy offers his seat, which I gratefully accept.

Who Is This “We?”

Bottom of the ninth, the Brooklyn Cyclones are behind five runs to nothing, and after a lackluster performance all game by the home team, we’re ready for the game to be over.

“I mean, statistically it’s possible for them to score six runs in an inning,” I tell my friend Kevin, and we both laugh.

But then they proceed to score five runs, one right after the other.

“Holy crap, we might actually win this!” I say.