I miss my Salish Sea. At home I can’t see it from my house, but stand in the middle of my street and there it is.
All that water. There are mountains here and trees, but they are very different. Here it is high desert, 4600 feet and up. The Grand Valley is at 4600 feet and the mesas rise from here. I miss Port Townsend Bay, and the big trees.
Gold sky and blue water. Look! A grebe! Catching breakfast!
Human behavior doesn’t surprise me, really. Sometimes it disappoints, depresses, demeans, dispirits and demoralizes. And it’s not the patients. It is the corporate workplace and how it abuses people. And circles the wagons against a threat. Including against employees that it views as threats.
I think all of my patients are smart. “You got this,” I say. I explain what carbohydrates are and that they are in everything, practically, except meat and oil. And some meats have carbohydrates too: shrimp, for example. But my patients can figure this out! My patients rise to the occasion! I am not saying that they do smart things all the time. No one does, including me. Even the smartest ones can do things that are not a good idea or are a really bad idea. Growing up in an addiction household, I think I escaped addiction mostly because I had decided that no adults could be trusted by the time I was three. I thought they loved me but I couldn’t trust them not to give me to someone else. Ironic, that the distrust saved me from taking the same path. My sister took it and is gone. My patients are smart and all I have to do is share my education and experience! They take the ball and run with it! Not all. Sometimes it’s too late and everyone dies eventually.
Corporations, on the other hand, are infuriatingly stupid.
The photograph is me in 2015, sailing my father’s boat with my daughter, in Port Townsend Bay.
I call a friend yesterday and sing, “Happy Day Before Your Birthday to You”. It sounds silly. She has just gotten Covid and this cheers her up.
She is telling me about her summer and about a class at a camp. Some for adults and some for children, but one where people really dropped their masks and just got to be themselves.
What identity is your deepest self? She is talking about her nine year old self. I think mine is more like four and rebellious and skeptical of adults, adulthood and all of their rules. I don’t think I am ever out of touch with this identity, though I don’t let it talk out loud in clinic. Mostly. A rebellious four year old informed by medical school and years of experience is a pretty frightening thought, isn’t it? Or the basis for a great cartoon.
That part of me is very observant and quite smart. It does not care what we are supposed to see or the cues people give. Growing up in an alcohol household, it looks for what people do not say. This can be terribly helpful in clinic and also a bit weird. It is body language and tone of voice and what questions a person shies away from answering and the puzzle pieces that do not fit.
Last week I see a small child with her parents for vomiting and coughing and fever. I am interviewing the child and asking if things hurt. “Do your ears hurt?” I ask. She shakes her head no. I point to my throat next and she nods. Yes, that part hurts. Her toes do not. I include toes or something silly to find out if the child is saying yes to all of it. I tell the parents that we will do a strep test, that mostly people don’t cough with strep except when they do. The strep is positive. My medical assistant grumbles, “They didn’t tell me that,” but I think the parents were more worried about the vomiting and she may not have complained about her throat.
Are the masks we wear always bad? I don’t think so. I think it is frustrating if we believe our mask or never ever get to drop it. There is some formality to my role in clinic and I tend to get more formal when I am worried about someone. That has been interpreted as anger or brusqueness, but it isn’t. I am wearing a real mask with all patients because we are seeing at least one person with Covid every week. The literal mask does not help me connect with people, but sometimes I can anyhow. I have to take it off for the 90 year olds because most of them are hard of hearing and lip reading helps.
Ah, wheels! These photographs are from the Great Port Townsend Bay Kinetic Sculpture Festival, from October 2023. All of the machines are human powered and have to go on land, up a big hill, be able to brake, go through water (the Port Townsend Bay is COLD) and through a mud bog at the fair grounds! They have to have a theme, bribes for the judges, support teams (usually on bikes), a teddy bear on board and I think duct tape is required too.
It is three days of costumes, physical work pedaling the human powered machines, a parade, a dance, a Kinetic Kween, a brake test and the challenging trip through the water, the race itself (most mediocre wins) and the mud bog. There are many wheels involved and quite a lot of fabric and glitter. Some machines are thoroughly engineered and others involve more duct tape and improvised floatation attachments.
It is the Pacific Northwest, so there might be giant slugs too. Are there wheels involved in this tail or not?
Yesterday I hiked Echo Canyon in the Colorado National Monument. The first part is a shared hike, with the Devil’s Kitchen Trail, No Thoroughfare Canyon Trail and Old Gordon Trail. Old Gordon and Echo split off and then they split.
I did not start hiking until ten yesterday and it was already heating up. Echo Canyon is partly shady, once I am in the canyon. The rocks are gorgeous and there is a plethora of stripes. How beautiful!
At the head of the canyon and all through it, you can see where water carves. It would be amazing to see this waterfall, but since there are flood bits in the tops of trees, it is probably way too dangerous.
There is a pool at the base now and there was a small stream above ground in part of the canyon and a swampy bit.
A friend and I did a hike in Palisade this morning. It goes up, up and then there is a loop at the top. This is the fabulous view from the top, towards the west, with the Colorado River and the rest of Grand Junction.
On the loop we look for these:
Petroglyphs! And the bottom one really looks like an elk. Most looked like deer.
This is the canyon on our right on the way down, but I would bet that there is a wash at the base. These amazing mesas and rocks are carved by water and time.
And here is the mesa across from us to the north, from the top again.
This is a log on the beach in May 2022. A tiny forest and other things growing, fed by the seawater. We don’t know how long the log has been tossed from sea to shore and sea again.
Maybe the tiny green things look at one celled plants and marvel at how small they are.
Rocks! I have more pictures of rocks than you can shake a stick at! Double meaning here: those rocks are at my home and the rock is home to barnacles and all sorts of other creatures. The seagulls like it too.
Grand Junction right now has tons of roses. In yards, by the clinic, by all sorts of buildings. When I drive to work, irrigation hoses are spraying before it gets hot. The roses are gorgeous and plentiful. I have not seen one deer chomping them, like they do at home!
Discover and re-discover Mexicoβs cuisine, culture and history through the recipes, backyard stories and other interesting findings of an expatriate in Canada
Engaging in some lyrical athletics whilst painting pictures with words and pounding the pavement. I run; blog; write poetry; chase after my kids & drink coffee.
Refugees welcome - FlΓΌchtlinge willkommen I am teaching German to refugees. Ich unterrichte geflΓΌchtete Menschen in der deutschen Sprache. I am writing this blog in English and German because my friends speak English and German. Ich schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch, weil meine Freunde Deutsch und Englisch sprechen.
KO Rural Mad As Hell Blog 
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