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Boobs

The other night I was watching The Good Doctor, a television show about an autistic doctor and his co-workers.

This episode centered around a 13 year old boy that had already lost one eye to cancer and was having the other one removed.

He would become blind in order to live.

The day before his surgery, he snuck out of the hospital to try to see things one last time.

Two of the residents found him and decided to make that last sighted day one he would always remember.

They took him to a major league baseball game. They let him drive a car around an empty parking lot and down country roads. He looked at pictures and statues.

Then he asked for them to stop at a strip club so he could see a naked woman for the first and last time.

They tried, but the security guard wouldn’t be swayed by the teenage boy or the two women doctors.

I can understand why. In this world we live in right now, doing something like that could lead to them losing their licence and being shut down due to exposing a minor or some other charge.

That’s just the way it is.

Of course, the boy was disappointed and said, “Well, at least I tried to see boobs once in my life.”

He tried. He was turned down. There wasn’t anything else he could do about it.

The morning of his surgery, his parents talked to him and comforted him as he searched their eyes, memorizing their faces and his own.

One last look.

Do you ever think about that?

One last look. What if you could only see someone you loved one last time? See their smile, the dimples, the twinkle in their eyes… The way they walk, the features of their face, the shape of their hands?

Think about the things you look at every day without really thinking about it.

The petals of a flower. The clouds in the sky. The butterfly and the bumblebee.

We take those things for granted, don’t we?

Just like a teenage boy would take for granted that someday he would get to see boobs.

This boy didn’t get to see boobs, though, on his very last day with sight.

At least that’s what he thought.

Then, a surprising, wonderful, completely unprofessional thing happened.

One of the residents that had spent the day showing him as much as possible came back into his room.

She said,”I forgot to do something.”

“What?,” he asked.

” Shut up!” She replied, and lifted her scrub top over her head, exposing her boobs.

The look on his face was priceless.

The first look and the last look, all at once.

That’s one of those times when rules and regulations get pushed aside for very good reason.

Compassion. Empathy. Understanding.

She made a choice that would have been disastrous for her medical career if she had been caught, but she chose anyway.

She chose to give a teenage boy be something he would never forget.

Boobs.

Sometimes that’s all that matters.

👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead

7 45 a.m. 6.29.20

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Remembering

Big giant heartfelt thoughts to my Papa John Hamilton Lohnes who is right now unconscious and split open on a Surgeon’s table getting his heart back in shape.
Here’s a poem penned by my friend Jeanna’ Mead…


Let my heart be broken
Torn into pieces
Bring me to my knees
Let my heart be open
Wide enough to embrace
Every bit of chaos,
Every glimpse of peace
Let my hands touch
Offer much more
Soothe and comfort
Push and pull
Press and release
Give and receive

For every body
Contains the soul
Let my heart know
My hands are touching both

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Hand in Hand

She sees me

I see her

She sees herself

I see myself

How dare I think

Anything less

Of who I am

When I’m looking

At my own skin and bones

Brown eyes

Same curves

Same big smile

I see who I was

She sees who she will be

We are hand in hand

Closer than ever

Jeanna’ Mead

6 28 a.m. June 24 2020

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Believe

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Canvas

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Skin

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Response

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Someday

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Once Again No More

She had tried

Once again

Spent days and nights

So much time

Losing herself

In someone else

No more

No more

She learned

This time for good

It’ll be the last time

She gives so much

From this day on

Day and night

So much time

Will be spent different

On what she should have

Never let slide away

Once again

No more

She knew what it was

End of the story

Good enough

Time to set it all aside

Another lesson learned

Once again

No more.

👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead

2 55 p.m. 6.23.20

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Still His

He used to sit outside

In the swing underneath the trees

An open invitation

Was always given

For me to sit beside him

On that double swing

We would talk about almost everything

Or nothing at all

I can still feel his hand

Resting on my knee

See the twinkle in his eyes

When I would join him outside

He used to sit on the couch

Facing the big picture window

In the fancy room of the house

Where the record player took center stage

And he could sit and think

I had an open invitation

To come sit down beside him

We would talk about almost everything

But not about the war

He said those were things he couldn’t explain

And that was it

I can still feel his strong hand resting on my knee

The way he looked at me

Made it perfectly clear

Exactly what he thought

It’s been a long time

Almost half my life

Since I’ve had an open invitation

A chance to sit and listen

To the man that raised me

But I still feel his hands

I still hear his voice

I still see those blue+gray eyes

And I’m still his.

For my beloved Daddy

Jeanna’ Mead

June 22 2020. 7 33 a.m