Saturday, April 30, 2005

Stinger in the Tongue

Today a wasp got trapped in my living room. In desperation he dashed himself from window to ceiling to furniture. I could have simply and politely held the front door open and let him fly into freedom. But in my fear I began running around the room flailing at arms at him which didn't help the situation. It ended when Roy came to my rescue with blue fly swatter and smacked the wasp against the cement window sill.

As I watched him twitching to death, I remembered another wasp incident many years ago. Wrinkles, our part Sharpei, part chow, part Lab, part whatever mutt of a dog, had just joined our family. A reject at the puppy farm she was way past puppyhood and well into the defiant puberty. She had a mind of her own and did as she pleased. Surrounded by woods, strange animals and insects, our home was doggy heaven. One muggy summer day a wasp that was trying to enter our home got smacked down by my husband and lay twitching on the porch. Wrinkles went diving towards the wasp. In spite of the many commands to "stay," she lunged forward and took the dying wasp in her mouth. In desperation, the wasp attempted one last victory before being chewed to its death by Wrinkles. He stung Wrinkles in her tongue! With a yelp Wrinkles began running around in circles, alternatly grating her tongue against her front teeth and sticking her paw in her mouth. But the stinger was firmly and painfully implanted in her pink and black Sharpei-wannabe tongue. No way could she take the stinger out of her mouth by herself. It took three of us. Jez sat on her to hold her down and Roy held her mouth open while I used a pair of tweezers.

Some things we just can't do by ourselves.

"Have a little compassion. Even the lowliest creature needs a friend."--Tim in Home Improvement, 1991

"For the despairing man, there should be kindness from his friend."--Job 6:14, The New American Standard

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Booger Flips and Snot Falls

In and around the hospital we have big, deep trash cans to collect the obvious--trash--and the booger and snot deposits of employees and visitors. In Nepal it is not bad manners to insert your finger or fingers up your nostrils, dig out those annoying boogers and flip them in the direction of your choice regardless of the obstacles in your way. It is not bad manners to blow snot out of your nose or regurgitate the same in a fury. The trash cans keep people from slipping and sliding on snot deposits.

On campus, besides Nepalis, we also have several families from "civilized" countries. It is the general assumption that they do not need the trash cans and have access to more appropriate, civilized methods of depositing their boogers and snot. But that is not necessarily true: Just the other day, I was cutting a corner in a hurry and ran into the top "civilized" physician ripping a doozy of a snot spray over red spring poppies! As I jumped back to save myself from stray droplets, he realized he was caught wet-handed. Quickly he pulled himself together with great dignity and began an exaggerated pretense of have an itch on his nose.

First World or Third World; politically correct developed country or developing country; affluence or poverty; cultured with class from the most upscale part of the city or farmers from a boonie town across the mountain--we're all the same in a basic sort of way.

I say this with stray crumbs of "you know what" under my nails.

"You lie like a fly with a booger in its eye."--Bart in "The Simpsons" 1989 (www.imbd.com)

"The rich and the poor have this in common: The LORD made them both."--Proverbs 22:2, New Living Translation