another example of emotions in PR culture.

today S came back for her teeth to be cleaned. i asked if she had any summer plans. she said that they might move to new york. then talked about this roller coaster ride of how she was supposed to find out in april, then may, and now the news is postponed until june. and the suspense is killing her! even though she is only 7 years old.
i asked if she wanted to move.
she said no.
i told her how i had to move at 14 and it sucked. but it makes us stronger.
at the end of our visit, i said, 'hopefully i'll see you in six months, but if not, then i'll say bye right now just in case.'
then she goes, 'stop! you're gonna make me cry!' as she's waving her hands in front of her face, like, feeling verklempt.
so, we hug.
then she goes, "it was nice knowin' ya."

sooo precious!

anyway, sometimes people say that this job is really hard and thankless. but there are the occasional patients that make it all worth it.

i can't say this was enough of a healing moment to compensate for the other 20 patients i saw today in 90 degree heat. haha. but, it definitely makes a positive difference.

the parents of this family sold their beauty supply store and are going to pursue full-time ministry, hence the possible move to a new city.

anyway. i know these girls (S and her sisters) are in good hands and Good Hands.

giving an injection to a kid yesterday and he kinda squealed. i felt really bad. he was strong and fought it and didn't go berserk, like some kids. he just kinda screamed and said, 'IT HURTS!!!'
then after it was done, he just sat there kinda stunned, breathing deeply, and repeating, 'goddamm', over and over and over.

so it's heartbreaking on multiple levels.
i hate making kids cry w/ injections.
he's using his words... but who in the world taught him those words? he's only 6.

anyway, i tried to get him to calm down, like trying to calm down a baby.
calvin, not really knowing what to say goes, "umm... maybe you can use different words to express your pain?" or something along those lines.

i dunno if he heard that or not. we try to facilitate positive teaching moments w/ the patients. but unfortunately, the vulgar reaction is already kinda infused in his mind.

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hitched a ride w/ dexter the other day and he decided to drive down kensington. i never drove down that way before, usually taking frankford in the car or can't see the street from the train. anyway, totally shed new light on what people are talking about when they say "rough". my block doesn't seem that bad. the brokenness is masked by lots of storefronts and businesses. the corner towards somerset is more notorious for drugs, prostitution and other crime. def more people spaced out on the corners and sitting on the stoops.

when it's bright and sunny outside it doesn't seem that bad. and sometimes i entertain the idea of incarnational ministry... like living and working among the people.

my friend jenny told me she recently went to rural alabama to visit some friends. one of the locals found out she was from the north and said, "hey! let's give her a real southern experience!!!"

so they took her
-fishing (for catfish)
-shooting (with rifles at pop cans in a field)
-dirt biking (around the farm and through mud puddles)

true story.

so the other day when she was telling me all this, i was wondering what one would do as an ambassador in philly for a guest/foreigner and give them "a real philly experience!"

jenny was thinking maybe a ride on SEPTA. public transportation is def interesting here.

some other things i can think of...

-parallel parking!
-dodging bullets! (just kidding!)
-taking a cab
-tagging a wall (also kidding)

okay, i guess some typical philly activities:
-cheesesteak
-run up the rocky steps at the art museum
-philly mural tour
-visiting all the historical sites
-going for a horse buggy ride
-pro sports game

and much much more

allez kensington

haven't walked up and down the neighbourhood in a while. monday i didn't have a lunch so i went out to get a slice of pizza.
before i could order the person in front of me asks, "excuse me miss, do you have an extra $2 so that i could get another slice of pizza?"
in my head: "what just happened? who are you? i don't even know what to say."
me: "sorry, could you repeat that please?"
dude: "i just bought one slice of pizza [sitting on the counter], but i want to eat two, except that i don't have enough money."
me: [still confused] "so you don't have another two dollars? and you want me to give you money to buy another slice of pizza?"
dude: "yes, miss."
in my head: "i really don't have time to think about this right now. my cash is already in my hand and i visibly do have an extra two dollars. he's like 6 feet tall, and looks maybe age 24-29?
get a job, ninja!!!"
me: "ok, i'll buy you a piece of pizza."
dude: "thank you so much, miss."
me: "maybe you should watch your cholesterol." [as i'm walking away with my pepperoni pizza dripping in grease...]
dude: "huh?"
me: "yeah."

what goes around comes around.

today i stopped in happy donut for my first water ice of the season. i rarely see asians in kensington. and when i do i gawk like a tourist. so, the staff at happy donut are of east asian descent. and i paid my dollar then blurt, "are you chinese? vietnamese? ...(come on, humour me here...)" then the woman looks at me, kinda surprised with a hint of offended, and goes, "we're cambodian". "umm... are YOU chinese?"
"no, i'm taiwanese." hehe. waah.
[IT'S TAIWANESE AMERICAN HERITAGE WEEK]
anyway, i walked back to work and told my coworkers how i made a "racist" comment and asked if they were chinese. which is a 2% legit question, since happy donut sells "chinese food". but i shoulda/coulda guessed cambodian because, statistically speaking, the likelihood that an asian doughnut shop owner would be cambodian is definitely higher compared to other ethnicities.

so in that moment i instantly forgave everyone who has ever asked me such questions.

later today i was walking home and i hear someone say, "ni hao!" with incorrect tones.
i decide to humour him, turn around, and say "ni hao! teeheehee" back. i couldn't help the giggling at the end.

of course during the rest of my walk back i thought of everything i should have said:

"hai hao!!! hao jiu bu jien!!! ni ne?!!!" (chinese 101 skit #1)
"ninja!" (ninja as a euphemism for a really bad 'n' word)
"wassup mah brutha!"
"hakuna matata?" (just tryin' to reciprocate and speak your language here...)

this also made me think of j at work, who still calls me 'chinita' even though all my team tells him, "oooh daaang, you betta not call her dat coz she not chinese. "
so my future comeback is to dish it back to him and call him mexican. which i'm sure he will appreciate.

a mennonite moment:

there are quite a few mennonites in the city doing justice/peace/restoration type work. including a few co-workers.

c is in my home group/small group/family group at church and his parents are mennonite, and he's pretty fond of his heritage. anyway, the other day i walked into the room and he was sitting on te couch. in the current conversation he said something not very intelligent-sounding. ok, so sometimes i need a better filter between my brain and my mouth. filter fail, and i called him out on it. which wasn't completely cutting. but it wasn't edifying. actually it was kind of funny. at least everyone else laughed. c stood up from where he was sitting and headed towards me. i braced myself and prepared to flinch. looking back on this, i think it's because i grew up with an older brother who was/is/always will be bigger than me. and if i insult him, i naturally react in retreat for fear that he will slap or punch me. (all in brotherly love, of course. ...i know i have issues...) anyway, c just extended his hand for a handshake and said, "hello, amy. how are you doing?"

peace!

so peaceful. and that was a mennonite moment.

so you know your family is complicated when...

somehow the topic of basketball came up. so i asked pt if she's following the nba playoffs. then she exclaims, "my brother is in the nba!"
me: "oh really? which team? cool!"
patient: "umm... what's his name? umm... zach reading! i think he plays for detroit."
me: "cool. i'm from the detroit area. i'll look him up."
patient: "yeah, he's my real brother. well, on my dad's side."
me: "oh okay. tell him to hook you up with some tickets!"
patient: "oh, does, whenever he comes up to play here, i go see the sixers with my dad."

anyway, i haven't been following the nba like i used to. ...err since grade 8. but there's a player named zach randolph who came from mich state, but he's playing for memphis.

so, i don't doubt my patient's sincerity w/ her story. mostly coz i've seen a lot of daddies that have been around 'round here. but that's a little difficult to not keep track of a plethora of siblings.