And waiting. Yesterday, my hand cast came off. A good thing, although, as with the only other cast I've ever had, sobering to see how quickly muscles, even finger ones, and even in just over three weeks, atrophy when not used. But waiting. I waited in a traffic jam on the Burrard Bridge (as I watched cyclists speed on by), I waited to register at the hospital, I waited for someone to take the cast off, I waited for the x-ray, I waited to see the hand assistant doctor followed by the hand expert doctor, and I waited to see the hand therapist. Each wait required a "take-a-number" procedure. I tried to think what Ruby Isabella would have thought about all that waiting, but mostly, I worried I would be late for school (I was, by about 15 minutes, but life went on, with no earth-shattering consequences). Through all the waiting, at a hospital that appears to be old and over-stretched in its capacity to serve its patients, I was struck by the kindness of everyone who had a hand:) in taking care of me. There was real concern, I felt, to make sure I would be able to do the musical work required by my job. And, one doc even reminded me to work on strength for braking on the bike - good people, and I left (to wait for the bus to North Van), reminding myself just how fortunate I am. We live in a good place, and waiting, with time to enjoy my book, and knowledge that my hand will work better in the long run, isn't so terrible after all.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Wondering and Waiting
On Saturday, I posted about the rabbits at Jericho Park. That evening, I read a post in Carol's blog over at Saints. It made the uneasiness I was trying to suppress, in the interest, perhaps of not being negative, come to the surface. How did those rabbits come to be there and what is their quality of life? Years ago, when I used to go there with Scott (last dog), someone told me a lady in the area buys up all the pet store rabbits, and releases them in the park, thinking she's giving them a good life. That person said many of the rabbits are caught by owls or coyotes. I have no idea if that was a true story. I did feel on Saturday that the rabbits seemed strangely relaxed and secure. With the exception of the white one, most came right out in the open, and showed no concern about Black Jack (who was quiet and on a short, short leash whenever rabbits showed up). I was also surprised there were no large dogs on the hunt. One lady said dogs don't go into those thickets because of the thorns. (Hm.. maybe bramble-type bushes are good for something, after all:) Does someone feed the rabbits? How did they manage in the winter? Should I be thinking about trying to rescue them? Lots of questions.