Mandy Haynes is the runaway writer
The runaway writer, making every day an adventure.
Several people back in Tennessee have asked to read the story. It’s a very personal story, but after my friend told me she was approached by two women at her bridge club who wanted her to thank me for sharing, I decided to put it here. The theme was Hope for The Holidays. Here’s my story –
When I was twelve or so, she is the person that realized I had a little bit of talent and no outlet – except for boys – and bought me my first set of paintbrushes and oil paints. I couldn’t find enough things to paint – nothing was safe, I painted EVERYTHING – even glass. She realized I needed more things to keep me busy – to keep me out of my mama’s hair and out of trouble – so she taught me Sherinschniette
So I was sitting in the ER last night beside a homeless man who had been bitten in the face by a spider. I was sick as a dog with a kidney infection. We got to be good friends after four or five hours.
She had to decide right then what she was taking and what she was leaving. All her memories out there in the yard.
She was a tiny thing with bright hazel eyes the color of a lion's, and a mane of sunbleached dreadlocks. Not a drop of makeup on her tanned skin, but she seemed to glow.
I met a man who I'll never forget. He stopped me in the hallway to tell me how scared he was. He hated coming in, hated the word cardiology, hated the word echo. Hated my scrubs. He was over six feet of raw emotions carrying his new baby. I explained the test in the hallway... Continue Reading →
These last couple of weeks have been crazy. Crazy good.Let's see, it started with a trip to the dermatologist. I had a spot on my leg that had gotten weird. I wasn't too concerned - no, that's not true - I was a little worried, but I guess that's normal. Karen, urged me to make... Continue Reading →
The next night the gift came in the form of a fireball shooting nun celebrating her retirement from St. Bernard's at Lipstick Lounge.
When I was little, I had an imaginary friend, his name was Uncle Wilkensack. Actually, I had twenty one imaginary friends because Uncle Wilkensack had a wife, they had seventeen kids and they had two pet alligators. I can still remember the first time I met them. I was sick with a high fever, lying... Continue Reading →
This is another memory from my time in pediatric cardiology, and another favorite. You never know who is going to stand up when you go to the waiting room and call a patient’s name. In pediatrics, it’s not only the patient you get to meet, but also their families. This time, when I called the... Continue Reading →