"Oh my God they broke her...."

Not my sister, don't worry. Jackie, in her on-demand finale.

Although I am writing this from the atrium of Lourdes Hospital in Binghamton, just outside the Laser Eye center, where Donna is having a cataract out today. What better place to write and worry about my favorite nurse in the whole world?  Now I just need a nun to go by so I can raise my cup and drink.

Coffee, okay? It's just coffee.

( Of course they're spoilers. What else would they be? )

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I was kidding about the coffee. They schedule 7:30 appointments and then don't open the coffee bar until 8, at least. This is cruel.

Fancy-ass construction going on all around, as the nuns add all the latest amenities to compete with the municipal hospital and the other local for-profit health care chain. Wouldn't want to disrupt that fine health care delivery now, would we?

At this second, wi-fi is not one of those amenities. I can understand, since I've yet to see a single patient or accompanist younger than I am. The only one who came close was the guy in the elevator up to this floor wearing a Marlboro t-shirt. Gee, wonder what his problem is?

The 7:30 appointment morphed into an 8:15 appointment. They're kinda quirky that way.

It's 8 on the dot.  Coffee grounddddddddds....

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3 hours later  [cue harp sound effect and dry ice]:

All done. Back at Donna's house. Now just to get my nurse fixed, dammit.

Dead reckoning

After I drove my sister home, I went on a quick shopping round, and since all these strip malls and highways look alike, I took the wrong turn out of the parking lot and wound up on Vestal Road rather than Vestal Parkway. The first place to turn around after realizing my miscue was the main entrance to the Vestal Hills cemetery- where my mother has spent the past ten years in quiet beauty.

Needless to say, I needed to go back. It wound up being solo, since Donna was still a bit exhausted from the surgery, and her best friend also had a bit of a bad day yesterday, so I went up there myself, determined to take my best guess at where the stone was.

Not for nothing do they call it Vestal Hills, and after a good half hour or so of some serious cardio, I gave up on my quest and headed to the cemetery office. I was handed a map and a circling of where I wanted to be. First, though, I wanted to find some flowers, so I asked if there was a florist nearby.

I was referred to the Wal Mart half a dozen strip malls down the Parkway.

I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll buy my socks and my light bulbs and all sorts of unnecessary plastic objects at Wally World, but something this emotionally charged needs something a bit more personal.  Her second choice was a florist near the Binghamton hospital I took Donna to this morning- one which I never found.

By the time I retraced a lot of steps from 30 years ago, through two of Donna's old neighborhoods on the West Side and in Johnson City, I was back at Wegmans, where I shoulda just gone in the first place. They had the right plant and the right container for it, and half an hour later, I'd both found and honored our mom:



Tomorrow, I'll be getting closer to the other end of the circle of life arc, as I visit my niece, unless she's in the hospital herself prematurely giving birth.

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You thought you'd get out of a day of kitty pictures because I'm away? Not so fast, Colonel Hogan! Eleanor's been busy with the cam and the fam today, including an amazing shot of Zoey and her big brother.