Physician, Craft Thyself

It's occurred to me that I've never mentioned the reason for the title of this blog. Well, reason isn't really the correct word for it. Excuse, maybe.

Basically, just prior to starting my blog, I had read a bit about The Chisholm Trail, and found it intriguing. Now, I'm not from Texas or Kansas, but I am from Missouri. And I'm not a particular fan of the Western. But the knowledge that The Chisholm Trail had figured in the lives of so many legends, including Annie Oakley and the Sundance Kid, just fascinated me. So, with that in the forefront of my imagination, I came up with a name for my own budding artistic path. I still aspire to create an original painting as an appropriate banner for this little blog, but for now, the desert bloom will have to do, among other images.


An odd thing happened to me this week, when I went in for my routine visit with

***Toni, Ob/Gyn Extraordinaire***

(I don't know how she can be so humble about the whole thing.)


I was lying there on the exam table, wondering what her mad rush was about, when I started playing with the little, crafty-looking mobile hanging down from the ceiling above me, to distract patients from the real reason they were there (which is not to play with birdie mobiles). It was so CUTE! It was 5 little birdies flying, with yellow wooden bodies and hammered metal wings. They flitted about as I tapped them, and at one point I said, "These are so cute! Did you make them?" Of course, I didn't really think she made them, I mean, she seemed to have her hands full with babies and their cords, etc, as well as being at least a dozen years younger than I am, with two small children. How would the idea of making art ever enter her thoughts? She's a left-brain person, after all! All the math and science?! eep!

Whereupon, she laughed and said, "Oh no! I have my crafty moments, but I didn't make that!"

Bing! I stopped what I was doing and looked down at her. "What do you mean, you have 'crafty moments'?"

She whipped off her gloves and picked up my chart and, in a very nonchalant, matter of fact way, she said, "Oh I don't work with metal, I just quilt and make cards and knit. You know."

'You know?' No, umbilical woman, I didn't know! I admit, I was surprised. I mean, this was my doctor! I was so astonished that I almost forgot that I was still feeling a bit drafty.

We interrupt this consciousness-raising with an ATC:



So, I sat up, and said, "Are you kidding?!" It was as if I'd just been given an extra 40% off my entire purchase. "I had no idea."

She looked up at me and smiled indulgently. It occurred to me she might actually reach out and pat me gently on the head. But she only said, "Oh, yeah, I have supplies all over the house. Right now I'm working on a table runner. The girls like to help sometimes but they lose interest after awhile."

Well, after I got over the impulse to ask for her autograph, we talked for a few minutes about our work spaces, the satisfaction that comes from hand-crafting, and how meditative the process is.

Then she confirmed to me that I am, indeed, in menopause, and she walked out.

We end with another ATC: