Frankly, a purist would say I'm a total failure, but I'm
pretty pleased with how much I've cut out milk, cheese and eggs, as
well as meat. I put fish back into my diet about a month after
going straight vegan, and now, I decided to put eggs back in. But
that is only peripherally related to the crazy part of the
story.
Shortly after I sat down to eat, an elderly woman came in with
a man, probably in his 40s. He was odd looking and she was
pushing one of those collapsible baby strollers. But there was no
baby in it. She was using it as a walker.
I was trying to read a book by an author I'll be interviewing
in a few weeks. Her loud voice kept distracting me. I spent five
years working in acute psychiatric care, back in the seventies,
right out of college, and I can tell a psychiatric patient when I
see one. She was one. Every few minutes she'd start talking loudly
about religion, reciting hail Marys, just acting oddly enough to
confirm my suspicions. Then, she had a very loud phone call with
someone, telling the caller on the other end to go to confession,
that priests hear everything, from murderers and people who have
had abortions.
It wasn't like she was doing anything particularly bizarre,
but the picture added up. I was sure she was a long-time
psychiatric case and frankly, the noise level was annoying.
Then, she announced, loud enough for most of the restaurant to
hear, that she was going to the bathroom before they departed. She
walked towards me and stopped, looking directly at
me.
"Do you believe in miracles," she asked.
I paused, for a few seconds, nonplussed, and replied, "Yes I
do."
"Good... even flowers," she added, with a nod, as she
continued, pushing her pink baby stroller towards the Lady's
room.
"Even flowers," I thought to myself.
She'd transformed herself from a loud, moderately annoying
head case to someone who had, in a moment, with a few words,
brought some magic and a smile to me.
On the way back from the restroom she stopped and asked my
name. I told her and she shared with me, "My daughter's getting
discharged from Friends Hospital today." Friends is one of the
oldest inpatient psychiatric hospitals in America. It's on the same
grounds as the outpatient mental health center I worked at for
almost four years, while I was putting myself through grad
school.
I asked if I could take her picture. I did, with my
iPhone.
"So fast! It's done already?" she exclaimed. I showed it to
her.
I'm only showing part of her face to maintain some anonymity. by rob kall
Her son, a burly bearded guy, in an extremely high, odd
soprano voice, muttered to himself that he didn't like
photos.
Okay. So, I'd nailed my layman diagnosis. But I'm writing this
because what came out of my interaction with her was something
beautiful-- far from what I'd expected.
It might be a good thing to remember in these crazy times we
live in.
Sometimes, out of something or from someone that seems really
crazy, we find unexpected beauty, magic and a reminder of what's
important.
6
5
4
