“We are all beggars, just begging different things”

Every day the swelling goes down, and the pain decreases. It doesn’t disappear which is disheartening. I so want a miracle, one of those middle ages miracles where I throw my crutches to the ground and walk while the crowd falls to their knees and yells halleluia! My mood today is better, not great but better. I’m watching Killers from Space, a black and white movie from 1954. Few movies are better than old black and white science fiction, those grainy films of my childhood. This one has bug-eyed aliens from Venus hoping for world domination. But don’t they all?

I’m wearing my cozies every day. I haven’t been clothes dressed since last Wednesday when I drove home from the hospital. The repairman is coming to fix my fridge today so I may dress in my cozies but add a constricting garment for the sake of propriety.

When I was a kid, I never stayed in a hospital. Whatever ailments I had were taken care of at the doctor’s office, but those ailments were few, just the typical 1950’s kid diseases and maybe a cut or two needing stitches.

When I was young, my mother always used to say beggars can’t be choosers. Mostly that was when I carped about the vegetables.

When I was in the Peace Corps, in the town where I lived, most beggars stayed away from me knowing I lived in town and was not going to be forthcoming with money. If I gave money once, the beggars would descent on me en masse and expect money all the time. They’d harass me if I didn’t give them any. One beggar was especially persistent. He had had leprosy and was missing some finger tips. I used to give him a blessing. My language instructor Lawel said you could never let a beggar leave empty handed so giving a blessing, instead of money, was appropriate. I’m not so sure the beggars agreed. My favorite beggar was an old lady. She would follow me from store to store and beg and beg. She wasn’t content with a blessing. I remember being at the post office where I had parked my moto under trees. She followed me, grabbed a stick then screamed and started to attack me and my bike. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I didn’t want to be attacked either. I turned the front of my bike toward her and revved the motor. The threat was enough. She took off and never bothered me again.

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4 Comments on ““We are all beggars, just begging different things””

  1. Bob Says:

    Hi Kat,

    Only miracles happen in the movies and in bible stories. Time does heal all wounds. Unfortunately, are plays a part.

    When ai was a kid I only spent one night in a hospital. When I broke my arm on the jungle gym we went to the emergency room at the hospital. I can recall the drive to the hospital. I was laying on my mother’s lap innthe back seat and my father drove the car. While they had me under anesthesia, my mother drove home and left my father to stay with me in the room. The next day my mother drove to the hospital and picked us up.

    On Saturday we drove to Dallas and the beggars were in force with signs looking for money at major intersections. The freeway underpasses have become the new homeless tent cities. As the city cleans out the major homeless encampments. Even in our neighborhood, my wife was accosted by woman in Walmart begging for money to by baby food. I don’t understand why people don’t go to work. There are plenty of job openings. I refuse to give these beggars money. It only encourages them.

    • katry Says:

      Hi Bob,
      I have know some miracles. One of my friend’s parents was given two months at best to live. She is still alive after 5 years. That to me is a miracle. Time often moves far too slowly.

      Did you have surgery on your arm? I’m glad that even back then they allowed a parent to stay with you. Being in a hospital has to be scary enough especially if you are

      I know two spots on the road in Boston where there were always people walking around with cups for money or they were selling single roses. The powers that be just broke up a homeless encampment. Some moved to another encampment while some were give tiny houses. Many of these people are alcoholics or drug users. Even with the jobs available they cannot do them. They need to be weaned off their drugs and alcohol. I don’t know how that could or would happen. Beggars have existed through time and are everywhere.

      • Bob Says:

        I didn’t require surgery, but they did stitch up the place where my ulna bone broke through the skin, and I still have the scar. Yes, it was scary but my dad slept on the chair next to the bed.

        Your friend’s parent surviving could be considered a miracle. Or, it could be just good luck or a miss diagnosis. One of my friends from work survived liver cancer. They used a freezing technique to cure him. Luckily his tumor was encapsulated and didn’t spread.

        The news media called U.S. Air 1549 a miracle on the Hudson. Capt. Shullenberger was very lucky as well as a skilled pilot. Had he hit the flock of Canadian Geese a couple of miles closer to La Guardia airport, they would have crashed into an apartment house in the Bronx or hit the George Washington bridge. Having calm water and landing near a ferry boat was also either lucky or miraculous.

  2. katry Says:

    I believe that not everything can be explained away. Cancer and good luck don’t seem to go together at all. As for a miss diagnosis, with all the tools available to medicine, that seems barely possible.

    As I said, I am so glad they let your dad stay with you There were too many scary things happening to you to add being alone.

    I don’t know if he was lucky or this was miraculous. Maybe it was a combination of both.


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