Task

D is the most genuine and appreciative person I have ever met. His gratitude floats me. For what feels to me the most obvious behaviour, I help. It's what I am trained to do. My experience is all about tackling a problem, planning out contingencies, making sure all needed items are present, and all present items are put to best use. It's all about organization, learning from errors and successes, and seeing possibilities. That hurts? That doesn't work? No sweat, I got three more up my sleeve.

Comes of a surgeon saying, this right angle isn't working.

How about a penrose drain, or, oh there's that weird little whatzit in the ear set...

Nothing like knowing about a wide range of specialty instruments when faced with atypical anatomy in peril, and a frustrated surgeon trying to do best job for the patient.

I have also come to view tasks without emotional baggage. I can mop a floor, wipe snot, assist on a regional block, or first assist a surgeon on a tricky bit of vascular repair, with equal satisfaction. The last is much more fun, but the first is no punishment.

My back only complained a little when I scoured the bathroom this morning, after Moby did such a thorough job of distributing a layer of litter on the floor, probably because there may have been some feline urine there. A Special Effort, since the boxes both have lipped edges to prevent spillage. Sorely neglected, save for surface maintenance, the bathroom now smells much better. The forced air furnace lays down a lot of dust on top of the moisture, leaving muddy residual and orange mildew - all gone now.

D has been remarkably dexterous with his left hand. Now that he is in a smaller splint, he can do more, but with more pain. He managed shaving once with his left hand, and this morning with his right.

"Am I bleeding? No? Well, any shaving you can walk away from..."

I help when I can, sometimes just because I am there and he is tired. I know that one, when I could stoop down, if I had to, one more time, but D stops me, and picks up what I dropped. I help him hold the sleeve of his parka, and he thanks me, again. He expresses his admiration and regard clearly, though I think I only do what I do. It doesn't take a lot of intelligence to pay attention and apply what I have learned. What is rare and wonderful is to be appreciated for the effort.

Moby is sitting in front of me, we watch the snow come down.