Blue Willow

My cup got stolen.

It's a blue willow coffee mug I ordered from Stash Tea. It's really pretty. The blue in the design is sort of a cornflower blue and the design on the cup is really crisp, not all smeary like some blue willow cups. I drank cafe con leche in it every morning.

I love this cup. I associate it with my friend, Jerry, who died a few years ago. He was my advisor in nursing school, and he became my good friend. He was like this cup.

Blue willow. American exotic. The pattern on the plates in Lassie, remember? Blue willow makes me think of pioneers--of hardworking farm people havine something special in their lives. It's conventional and beautiful and a little exotic, but in a very reassuring way. I like following the little story in the picture--the three men on the bridge, the lovers, transformed into birds rising above into the sky. The pagoda. The willow tree. Sunlight on the fields. Dinner on the table. Ohio. Sitting on the shore of Lake Erie by the willow, watching the heron take flight over the bay.

The morning Jerry died, I went to the doctor. I kept fainting. I didn't feel sad or upset, but I kept falling down. Why am I falling down? I wondered. I decided I had brain cancer and went immediately to urgent care. The doctor there was very, very kind to me, and explained that what I was really doing was having a vagal response to Jerry's death, that, while I didn't consciously feel grief over Jerry's passing, my body was reacting. He suggested I go home for the rest of the day and lie down.

So I cut class and went home. I made myself another cup of cafe con leche (2 in one day!) and took a bath. I drank the second cup of coffee and put it by the sink. I turned off the light in the bathroom and opened the shade. I just wanted to sit in the tub in the sunlight. I still didn't feel anything. But I thought a bath would do me good. I lay there in the tub, watching the sunbeam move across the tile, the water getting colder. The sunbeam moved slowly across the floor, then up the wall, then for about 3 minutes, it filled up the blue willow cup. As if it were pouring light into it. The mug glowed with this friendly Japanese lantern-like light. And I thought, that's exactly how Jerry was--plain, functional, a little exotic, and absolutely filled with light. A microwave safe, blue willow coffee mug, filled up with light instead of the regular joe.

And then I started crying.

So, that's why I carry that cup into work, because I am really bringing Jerry along.

Now, as you may have already gleaned, I am occasionally harum scarum. I leave things everywhere. And the day before yesterday, I left the cup. I've done this before occasionally, and it usually turns up--we're generally pretty kind to each other's stuff--but this day was different.

I work with a woman who is Hali's stepsister. Her name is Anne. She's a great nurse--energetic, smart, good with families--but she has a very strong, aggressive personality, and she can be mean to other nurses. She likes to keep her assignments for weeks and is not much of a team player. She isn't flexible, she challenges management decisions all the time. She's also a gossip. I've tried to curb this over the months since she's moved to our shift. Our shift is pretty nice. I've tried to be gentle--when she starts complaining about someone, I call the other person over and have her speak to them directly. I mean, we're just not going to have that kind of crap at all. How can you care for patients well if the staff is busy stabbing each other in the back?

Anyways--long story short. Her assignment changed--she took over my patient and I went home early to avoid having to MTO regular staff--our patient census became too low and Wiz and I can better afford to go home than the rest of the staff because we're exempt. So, we're doing her a favor, right? But she's still pissed, and very vocal about it. She called me at home about two really minor things regarding my patient, ugly on the phone. I had had to wrap things up more quickly than usual, and in the kerfuffle, left my cup.

And when I came in the next day, my cup was missing. Anne, of course, had called in sick.

"Anne took my cup." I said. "I bet she threw it away."

"You don't know that," Marcy says. Marcy behaves, but Marcy is tricky. Fortunately, she's not very smart.

"Here's how it went down..." I clear my throat and do my best gravelly Anne voice, "God damn it, Hali left her cup. Ughh. It's dirty, too. What is that cuban crap she's always drinking--look at that--look at that crust around the top. Well that's just ridiculous. I don't think it's part of my practice act to deal with dirty dishes. Maybe someone needs to learn a little lesson about leaving her stuff around."

Marcy is staring at me with her mouth open.

I start laughing at her expression.

"Oh my god, that's almost exactly what happened. Word for word. How did you know? Were you still here?"

I decided to go all mystic samurai on her.

"I know who my staff are, Marcy. I know you, too."

She gets defensive. "I didn't see Anne throw away the cup--otherwise I would have gotten it out of the trash."

"Of course. "

She brought me a cup of coffee later.

Kiss ass.

Oh, well. People are weak. What do you do?

That's my 1/2 hour.