Quite an ominous title, I know. Now, before anyone infers that I am in the depths of depression or that things are not right with my ship world...please give it time and hear the blog out.
I am constantly finding out how things work here on the ship...learning new things every week as I experience them personally or through others. One thing that I learned this past week is how exciting it is to get snail mail...or how sad it is to check the folder and see that there is nothing for you. For hospital staff, we pick up our post in the HCS office, and we know that there is new post from afar because they 'announce' such via a sign outside the door stating, "Mail from Texas is in" or "Mail from Holland is in". This week, the second shipment of mail from Texas had come in since docking here in Togo.
This announcement thrilled me, for whatever reason (especially since I hadn't gotten mail the first time), and I told Linda and Naomi (our lab techs, and fellow auxiliary hospital crew) that mail had arrived, and I was going to check it. Naomi asked me to check for her as well since I was heading that way. So, I trotted off down the hall, and into the office, only to discover that there was no mail for me...but there was mail for Naomi.
So, with my heart a little less happy than before I started down the hall, I grudgingly brought Naomi's mail to her and stated that I was sad that I had not gotten any mail. Yes, complaining uselessly, I know. But, I did it anyways. And, I also believe that I told a friend back home that I had begun to despair that I wouldn't get any mail, even though it was only the second time that mail has come and that the outreach had just begun. But, despairing none-the-less. Despairing because, even in this day in age with all the technological advances we have with communicating through blog comments, Facebook, and e-mail...there is still something about getting something via snail mail.
The next day rolls around...my moment of despair further from my mind...and I get an e-mail from one of our secretaries in the HCS office saying that there was mail for me. Confused, I walked back down to the office and entered, all the while shaking my head and saying, "But, I don't understand. I was just in here yesterday, and there was no mail for me." She simply just shrugged her shoulders while I ruffled through the letter index, searching for the folder marked with an 'R'. Sure enough, there was a envelope marked with my name.
Without going into the details of the letter and the contents in the envelope (aside from a Starbucks card for use here on the ship)...I was being pranked... I was a bit confused, but wanted to get to the bottom of who did it. (Please note, it was not a bad "prank". It was actually quite cute and hilarious. And very much appreciated.) Not really knowing where to start, I showed the letter to Miriam, and we brainstormed who it could be. I told her that I was determined to find out who did it, even if it came down to cross-matching the writing of friends with the writing on the envelope.
I didn't have to go too far or do that much sleuthing. All I had to do was venture down the hall a few doors to the lab to find the culprits. After looking at some samples of writing in the lab and some interrogation, Linda finally admitted that the writing was hers...but the brains behind the operation, she blamed on Naomi. With my letter writer mystery solved, I happily hugged Linda and Naomi, and thanked them for being so thoughtful to me and trying to divert my no mail despair. Thanks once again, ladies!
Onto other news...
The first two days of surgery have been successful! The
Mighty Ships crew from Discovery Canada left after following a few of the stories through to the recovery room. More and more patients are being admitted as the surgery schedules fill up, as are the beds on the wards. On call duties are being fulfilled and the rhythm of the outreach is slowly being drummed out...
