A little better angle

Eamon looking at Mama Duck and her babies.

Tonight I worked my second night helping this senior man. Tonight was better than last. Last night I had to help sort through years of newspaper clippings and magazine articles on the most random-ass stuff, put them in protective plastic sleeves and put them in the appropriately labeled binder (of which there were about 50).

This man wears a urinary catheter (condom style) that his sweet little girlfriend put on before she went home. When I was helping him do his bedtime routine, he said: "Oh-ho! Look it there! It came off! I guess you'll have to put a new one on!" And I'm thinking, WTF? There was a point when we were looking for some particular random-ass article in his office when he asked if I'd leave him be for a bit. I assumed it was because there were important documents in there. But when the condom catheter (which is tight rubber and taped into place) "popped" off, I instantly thought he must have taken it of himself. Whatever. Horrible speculation. At any rate, I put a new one on (and it's very hard to put a condom on a very soft penis), taped it into place all in about 90 seconds. It made me a bit sick though. It took me forever to fall asleep last night, wondering How the hell did I end up doing THIS?!

Tonight was different. His girlfriend and her granddaughter (who is probably in her mid 30s) were there. They all came back from the store with a load of heavy Sauder press-board shelving and such. The granddaughter and I put a huge cabinet together. That took up 2 of my 5 hours there. She was cool and funny and drank at least 4 or 5 of this mans beer while we assembled. I drank a Diet Coke, although I was offered beer, which is funny.

When all was said and done and the ladies went home, he and I sat at the table talking as he ate his evening ice cream. He slid a $50 bill towards me for my extra work of putting the cabinet together. I immediately thought of what that $50 could help buy while my mouth said, "I couldn't possibly, that's too much!" He insisted, but I just left it there. We're not supposed to take tips. I'm not at all against bending that rule, but I also don't want to be accused of stealing $50 from a forgetful, but sweet old man. And a very rich man. I figure if it's there and he insists when I come back on Thursday night to help out, I'll consider it a nice gift. Otherwise, he'll just wonder why he forgot to put a $50 bill away last night when he gets up in the morning.

The good news for tonight: the catheter was done and on tight (not by me but by the girlfriend) and he was tired and told me to go an hour early for my hardwork. He told me to go home early so that I had time to count my blessings before bed.

So back to the: How in the hell did I end up doing THIS work?! It is strange the way life leads you down certain paths. I enjoy working with people. I enjoy being a care provider. Tonight as I sat at the table listening to the old man talk while he ate his ice cream, I even pondered: It's so strange I'm getting paid to sit here and do just this, in this moment.

That's a thought I've had at many a good birth. This complete here and now of "Wow, look at me. This is really nice. I'm getting paid for this? Weird. "

And even though I'm looking at this senior care gig as just temporary and seeing me through until things in the birth world start coming my way, I still am amazed at the way things work out. Part of it is slightly pissy, self-pity along the lines of: I have busted my ass apprenticing while working and raising kids!! Why am I not doing birth work?!

The other part of me is wiser and much calmer. The part of me that says things like, Trust the Process. The part of me that knows patience is a virtue and to rush things ends up not so nice a lot of the time.

If I were a big truck, I'd be beeping in reverse right now. Just a little. Like a little half circle to turn in a different direction. beep beep beep I need this time to gather myself and be away from the midwife scene for a while. (all the while figuring out new ways to get my name out there, of course) So despite the condom catheters and annoying filing of random, useless articles, I'm all right. Happy, even. And certainly counting my blessings.

Oh, and before I forget, it seems I did not win the Sleep Number bed from the Dr. Joy Browne show. However, I am very grateful for the special finalist pillows that are supposed to be on their way.