Molly At College

Dear Molly,

I hope you had a fun time at college. I hope you like when Avery is cute. We got your card and the stickers and tattoos that were in your card. You are the best sister ever. Did you hear that Avery got some coughs? The famous baby ever.
Love,
Mimi

Dear Molly,
I miss you. Have you gone to the dentist lately? David wants to tell you that he’s poopy and he’s coloring on himself. He’s not actually, it’s not on the pointy side of the marker. But he is poopy. We went to the dentist lately, have you?

Have you gone to ice cream yet with your friends? I hope you are good because the Easter bunny is watching. He has brown skin in the middle, white fur all over and a brown bunny tail. He wears a blue jacket and brown shoes. Clippity clop clop clip is how he sounds. He has big ears. I love you.

Josie david

Dear Molly,

I hope you have a happy Friday day or Wednesday. Oh yeah, it’s wednesday. Do you mind if I kiss a monkey. Ew, hair ball.

X <3 X <3 

(its not some fancy new text emoticon or whatever they’re called, Josie dictated “x heart x heart”)

**Much thanks to Sawa, for passing along the messages :)

I am disgustingly cute at the hospital. Really. I nauseate myself with the sheer enthusiasm with which I embrace the tasks I’m set.

“I’d LOVE to get you ice, Mr. Baker!”

“Anne Marie, the nice fellow in 37 window would really appreciate a clean bed pan…when you get a sec!”

“How long have you folks been waiting to get that catheter checked?”

 Really. I say “fellows” and “folks.”

Thus, when I’m asked to one of the jobs I most hate, I respond with a bright, toothy smile, and an affirmation of a pitch not registered by most dogs. Even this semester, when I’ve been promoted to maternity and pediatrics, I have little contact with interesting things, and lots of contact with weird and/or excruciating tedious things.

Example: the other day, while heading down to the laundry to get more bags of clean onsies to fold, I ran into Tony.

Tony is one of the respiration techs. I know his name is Tony because, one time, he told me.  Occasionally we ride the elevator together as I’m taking a discharge down or on the prowl for extra hand sanitizer.

On this occasion, he happened to be carrying a hammer, in addition to his toolkit of breathing equipment, so he could fix one of those egg machines where they keep the preemies.

“Did anyone call for the anesthesiologist?” He yelled into the elevator, waving the hammer around his head.

Everyone in the elevator chuckled a little bit, but Tony didn’t stop asking the question.

“CAUSE I’M A GREAT ONE!!!”

He was really insistent about it. I said,

“Oh! I’m so sorry! I don’t think any folks need one of those right now!”

Gag me. 

Class started on Wednesday, and I was very hopeful that everything was going to go much more smoothly than semester last. I had pre-registered successfully, scheduled my labs in a most artful of ways, and didn’t need any new textbooks. (I KNOW, RIGHT???!!!)

I even printed out my Gen Chem 104 syllabus from the course webpage, several days before it was to begin. Class started at 12pm, and the syllabus clearly stated it to be held in Room 278 of the science building.

I got there early, bringing my cup of tea. The last class, taught by a new professor, was just exiting the room when I entered. I took a seat up front, unpacked my color-coordinated folders and notebooks, and tried to look intelligent and appropriately located.

Students kept leaving, except for an older McBride student who was talking to the professor. As the room emptied, and did not begin to refill, I laughed happily to myself. What an excellent impression I was making! I was so early! So prepared! Go Molly! 

It did not occur to me, until the professor took a glance at his watch, and said, “Oh geez, I’m late for my next class,” 

that perhaps I had the wrong room.

As he exited, leaving me, sitting in an empty room with a bizarre grin glued to my face, I thought perhaps it would be best to run after him.

This I did, covertly, (read “like an idiot,”) skulking behind until we reached the appropriate room. 

The syllabus, then handed out in class, had been changed. Obviously.

The following day, I went to office hours to introduce myself to said chem professor. After explaining my situation and my fears for the approaching semester, he nodded in a friendly way and smiled.

“Were you the student who was sitting in 278?”

Yeah, that would be me.

He tilted his head, as though to say,

Yes, you are going to need an extraordinary amount of help.