Friday, January 13, 2017

I got interviewed by a massage school student the other night. They chose me-I'm assuming-because I don't have any warrants outstanding or maybe it's my cheerful attitude. Maybe.

Okay yeah, no warrants. Also since P's been around, my uniform has been dry-cleaned so I'm the least likely to appear wrinkled(shirt-wise). 


It was about 'working with special populations' and I was thinkin', huh? You mean like, 'The Association of Terrible Tippers' or something like that? (I'm only kidding. My tippage has been stupendous lately and I can't figure that out either. Either my stories are extra hilarious or else I've been too tired to tell any. One of those things.) No no no. That's not what she meant at all. 

I had to think. Special populations. Hmmm.

I said, oh, well I have The Cancer People. I guess that's a population. Duh. And if you remember(cue dream sequence)while I was out for the first surgery, I decided to pick up the Oncology massage training for increased karma balance and stuff like that and thank goodness I did or else this poor child's interview would have been about People Who Work On Computers All Dammed Day and The Cancer People have way better stories(no offense). 

I tried to be authentic with her-in terms of expectations. We talked about how just treating a Cancer Person like a actual Person(which is what they are-duh)is the best way to go and I told her, hey if this is something you're gonna look into, make sure you're getting your money from your salary because Seniors and Cancer People-that work is not about tipping at all.

And I told her about this one Cancer Person who had actually experienced FIVE flavors of cancer. Can you believe that? Because I was like, uhhh no way. And I asked this person-because I think once you've been admitted into the Cancer Club-you get away with asking way bolder questions than you would in normal life-I said, okay which one was:The Worst?

And I asked this because there's this thang in the Cancer Club where it makes you feel better to think that other people have it way worse that you do. I know not what that is a soothing concept-only that it exists. 

And the person told me this story. In the 1970's, they found a tiny lump in their breast region and they scheduled some sort of tiny exploratory surgery and the hospital had them sign some sort of release-just in case-but not to worry because everything looked fine and when they woke up-they looked down and their entire breast was gone and they said, and I quote: I freaked out. 

Good. Said me. What kind of bullshit is THAT?

There was another terrible part to their saga where some sort of cancer crap showed up on their leg and how they treated it was-kinda like how you'd carve a Sunday ham? They kept taking slices and running those to the lab and if the slice showed any cancer cells, they'd have to take another slice. 

Here's me: HOLY. SHIT. 

Because that's how I soothe Cancer People. 


Anyway, this massage student told me about how she'd been called to stay with someone who was well into their 90's. Not to do massage or nursing or anything-just sort of general companionshipping type stuff and the student leaned in and said do you know what she whispered to me? And I said, no. What?

She said, the 90 year old woman said, 'They never take me anywhere.'


This afternoon, me and my throbbing massage hands took my Dad to see 'SING'. I asked him which was his favorite character and he said: all of them. 

I get gifts from everywhere, don't I? 

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In other news, I was recently informed that marijuana cures cancer so pretty soon I'm going to be applying for a couple of  surgical rebates-just as soon as my eyes stop rolling. 

I am horrified by recent events in the Department of Affordable Care.


And in the Department of Good News, so far this year, this is the only doctor I've seen. 





2 comments:

  1. Duh,that took me a minute to get that beverage joke (pretty funny btw). I fear I am losing my edge.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Never!

    I blame the bendy straw. It looks kinda hospitalizy, right?

    ReplyDelete