So my front lawn kind of looks like a small rainforest right now. The dandelions are turning into trees and I've spotted squirrels making their homes amongst the crabgrass. (Mild exaggeration)

I decided to finally mow my lawn this morning but was (gasp!) reminded of the fact that there's a reason my roommate usually does this part of the chores. Wait for it..........

I don't know how to turn on the lawnmower.

Please don't make fun of me, I also have never dove from a diving board.

The reason is simple,

The appearance of trying to learn these two tasks with the general public looking on, had always appeared more embarrassing than just not doing them. (Okay, it's a little more psychotic-looking now that it's written down rather than in my head, but oh well.)

So I proceeded to mow my lawn today with a rotary mower that I have lovingly called "the hippie mower". Usually when I use the hippie mower, my neighbors try to contain their laughter as they walk by watching me struggle to get this thing to cut any grass. (Just a blade, please!)

But not today!! Today, as my neighbor rode by on his bicycle, I cringed as I looked over expecting to see the usual "don't laugh right now" face. Not today indeed.

No, today, as he rode by, he shouted at me: "Goin' Green! Woohoo!"

And so, what I never thought I would ever say while a resident of God's green earth (no pun intended) came quietly out of my mouth:

"Thanks, Al Gore. Thanks."

In the last week at work I've seen:

  1. A two year old with a black eye, skull fractures and a lacerated spleen. (a type of blunt abdominal trauma  that usually only happens in car accidents or extreme force) This child was not in a car accident.

   2. A four-month old with a skull fracture and old blood on his head CT scan. (related to trauma or shaking) This child will be allowed to go home with his parents because according to CPS, they have too many cases to investigate and will have to investigate this one at a later time.

   3. A brother and sister with substantial weight loss who started gaining weight once they were admitted into the hospital and fed properly.

    4. A 23-month old little girl with a neck fracture, colostomy bag, lacerated spleen and liver. This one was in a car accident, but it was because her mom decided to drive 90mph while doing meth, put her baby in a seat-belt instead of a carseat and then crashed. The seat belt saved her life, but ripped right through her abdomen. According to the nurse in the ER, the mom was so focused on the headaches she was having from her mild concussion that she never asked once about her baby in the gurney next to her that was having CPR done and being put on a ventilator.

I won't elaborate on all the kids I've seen over the years, but sexual trauma in 3yr olds, extreme neglect and abuse in infants are not just things that happen once a year on the news.

   Now, normally I don't share this stuff with friends outside of work. It kind of makes me a "Debbie-Downer" at parties and such. And besides, my specialty is oncology and people really don't want to talk about that. So why now? Why write about it on a public blog?

Because when I got off work this morning, all the usual stuff was running through my head. You know.....disgust, anger, relief that I'm not that kind of a person. I call it the "Jerry Springer" mentality. Where I'm almost morbidly fascinated by these extremes of humanity gone wrong. Because it makes me feel just and self-righteous when I compare myself to people who do stuff like that. Just being honest here.

Because once there was a quiet moment in my thoughts, I clearly heard the Lord ask me: "Do you believe that I died for those parents as well?" "That they are just as deserving of my grace?"

Because I honestly couldn't answer Him.

Because my Bible says that "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." (Romans 5:8)   And that: "All have sinned and fallen short of the grace of God" (Romans 3:23)

Because in the Bible, the hated and scorned were the ones Jesus spent time with.

The tax collectors and prostitutes.

Nowadays, people are irritated by the IRS....but I wouldn't call them hated and scorned. And prostitutes have become almost chic in our culture. Even in the church, their salvation is seen as a badge of honor. To see a woman saved and brought into an understanding of her true value and worth is priceless. I'm not saying it isn't. But it does seem that they're not as hated and scorned as they were when Jesus was alive. They're not as ignored by the church as they once were.

So when I think of who would be the modern day equivalent of tax collectors and prostitues, I can't help but think of child abusers and rapists. And I can't help but ask myself: "How would Jesus treat them?"

And last week, as I walked past the mother of the 2yr old with the black eye as she sat in the hallway at 3am text messaging someone while her child sat unattended in the room next door......I think I heard the answer to that question.

Because as I went to pass her by, I felt the Lord say: "Ask her if she wants a cup of coffee and see how she's doing."

My roomate has a cat.

I am not a "cat person". What little love I have for "Habibitti" (yes, that's the name) comes from her being one of God's creatures.

Being a "dog person" I have never lived with a cat, so I've learned a few things:

1. You never know if a cat really likes you or is just using you for food and security

2. If a cat snuggles up on your lap and watches an entire episode of "Lost" with you, it doesn't necessarily mean anything because the next morning she'll run the other direction when you try to go near her.

3. Within seconds, the cat's mood will change...causing her purring to turn into howls for no apparent reason

4. Apparently, women who are lonely have lots of cats to accessorize their barren wombs. I know of no lonely men who do this.

These lessons have not endeared me to this breed of animal, but they do beg one question:

Did God create cats so that women could see what it's like for the men that love them?

   I recently got a new cell phone and number. After five years I thought it was time to finally commit to Sacramento with my area code. (goodbye 707!) I always like to run these new purchases by my dad so he can give them his fatherly stamp of approval. Now, this usually just means me handing him my new cell phone/ipod/etc and then the following occuring: First he looks at it then turns it over in his hand, then-"you know, my buddy Brent could have got you this for half the price."  Yeah dad. I know.

     My last trip home I brought the new phone for his perusal. He was in the middle of a good book in his room, so I let him play with it while I checked my e-mail in the next room. A few minutes later this is what I heard:

    "Hey Nicole, you don't have anyone in your phonebook yet do you?"

    "Yeah Dad, I transferred all of them yesterday."

    "How many you think you have?" (little worried here)

    "About seventy-five"

    "Wow. That's really alot."

     "Dad, why do you want to know how many people are in my phonebook?"

   (very pregnant pause.............followed by chuckling.......)

      "Oh, I think I accidentally sent all of them a picture of my foot."

I got an admit last night. Now, on my floor this means: I got chased around the unit by my charge nurse holding a small piece of white paper not 2 minutes after I mistakenly told her "Hey, my kid in 49's going home".  When I say chased, I really mean chased. Those relief-charge nures can find anyone, anywhere!

My special, usually non-informative little white piece of paper last night read: "3yr old, Foreign Body in Esophagus". Which on a pediatric unit translates to: "Who wants to guess what the little booger swallowed today?"
This actually happens ALL the time. Whether it's computer chips in throats, diamond tennis bracelets, sunflower seeds in bronchial mainstems (all the way in the lungs) or my personal favorite: "sewing needle up urethra"... (6yr old boy. I sent him home after surgery just 30min before the start of his birthday party. After my inspirational lecture he will hopefully never put stuff up there again.)

So, this little cutie last night rolls up around 6pm. (normally, that's just a saying but in the hospital...people actually "roll"!) My money was on a Lego, others bet coinage or batteries. Lo and behold, it was a 1983 shiny penny. (Boring!) Poor kid couldn't eat until the next day so we tried to keep him occupied with movies and toys while his dad went to get some food. And this is where he turned up the charm:)

Most 2-3year olds will just stare at you or cry when first brought to the hospital. Not this kid. He started looking around like a ninja then asked "where's the food?".

"Sorry sweetie, you can't eat yet."

"But oh, I'm sooooo hungry!" "I haven't eaten alllllll day"

"Still can't eat." "Hey, look what Simba's doing!" (distraction never works)

"You don't know how hungry I am. Pleeeeeeese?" (at this point, I usually feel like the devil)

And this is when the kid pulled a trick out of his hat that I've never seen a kid use my entire career. Remember, 3 years old:

"Okay. I have an idea" (kid) "I like ice cream alot. Do you like ice cream?"

(me) "Ummmm, yeah. I like ice cream" (mind you, the kid's dad spoke Farsi and some English and told me he didn't think his son  understood much English either)

"Why don't you get three ice creams then! One for you........one for my dad 'cause he's really hungry too......and then just a little one for me!" "We could all eat ice cream together!"

I'm not kidding, I was almost convinced. It took just a second before I realized what that penny-eating little stinker was up to.