Love-Hate Relationship

The love - hate relationship of my current life circumstance continues. The pace at which I change from love to hate and back to love at anytime seems to be increasing.
This town, oh this tiny little town, is coming more alive to me everyday. As folks come into the clinic and I see who’s related to whom, who belongs to whom by friendship, marriage or neighborhood kinship - it’s all making much more sense. As we all know, love begets love, and dysfunction begets dysfunction and it’s no wonder that 75% of this town is on an antidepressant. Have mercy.

But in this dysfunction there is the silver lining of loyalty, kinship and the make-up of a support system - all of which are admirable. But this also becomes detrimental when the head of the clan crumbles - and down comes the rest of them - whether they’re related or not.

The drive to work last Thursday began with my newest favorite song about our 'right to be loved….” And I sang out loud as I came barreling down my lane, and the billowing grey clouds were low in the sky and as I turned the corner onto main street a handsome gentleman was leading 2 beautiful brown mares while riding atop his own. The ‘clop clop’ was magical. Two old big-gutted cronies were exchanging stories with wild arm motions in front of the liquor store - wearing their over-alls and baseball caps. A lady I knew crossed the street and walked to the market waving at me with a big smile.
Am I in the Truman Show?
But then I entered the clinic - a swirling storm of chaos was brewing inside, and a crash of thunder roared outside. An elderly man had fallen last night. He didn’t come to the doctor till this morning, still bleeding. Why hadn’t they called 911? Questions without answers were shouted out in every direction and the waiting room filled and folks were stirring uncomfortably as the rain started splashing down in torrents.

From Hollywood-like bliss one minute - to crazy scenes from ‘ER’ the next. But at least I got to put in my first 10 stitches. While staring at this old guy’s exposed skull picking out pieces of grass, I hoped to the Lord that he wasn’t bleeding deep inside or brewing a big infection.

One evening last week I jogged down my lane and onto a logging road that wound next to a creek and I marveled at the beauty God had created. The crows flew, the cows moaned, the dogs barked and the flies buzzed as I trotted by listening to the creek.
And then the quail ran.
It’s such a STRANGE thing - have you ever watched a quail? They have these beautiful smooth, plump grey bodies with an upside down comma on their heads. And they do have wings. But for some reason when presented with a danger from behind, a threat from a car or a human jogging - their best defense is to Run. Their little legs go a mile-a-minute, and they look like cartoon characters with their bodies staying perfectly poised atop their tiny legs. They run till they know they’ll be overtaken - and then they decide since all else has failed to open those wings and use them. This evening however, the poor obese quail who I was chasing, I mean following, was more plump than was healthy and as he ran, his top-heavy body was too much to overcome and down he went in a tiny cloud of dust. His body was down but his little stick legs were still running faster, faster! But he got up and ran - then faster, faster - then down again, in a tiny cloud of dust.
It was pure comedy.



Sometimes, at the less-than-logical choices of townfolk, dysfunctional relationship fallout, behavior of patients, escape routes of quail,
in order to survive...
I just have to laugh.