A world of handoffs

John Taylor: September 10, 20120 Comments

Shook hands with a hospital co-worker. Gave my wife a pen as she signed over her car’s pink slip to a relative of that co-worker. Then grabbed my jaw from the floor when we learned that my wife’s former car is now being driven by a member of a Hmong family my wife came to know as a Head Start teacher more than a decade ago in southeast Fresno. A warm moment in Fresno County, a small family of a million people.

Sell a car, buy a car. The auto dealer joked that my hand seemed to shake as I jotted the last digits on a personal check, my gateway to a car that has “hands free” and 610 pages of whiz-bang, gotta-learn-a-ton gadgetry.

As I drove off, absorbing new car smell, a September rain dappled Fresno. I found an electronic pointer in my hands at Fresno Heart & Surgical Hospital where – for folks who eschewed the live nighttime offerings of the New York Giants vs. Dallas Cowboys, and Bill Clinton's rhetoric – I spent an hour discussing healthcare reform and fielding very incisive questions from members of a project managers association.

The hectic week concluded with my left hand in a gauze compression bandage. For an intriguingly ucky 30 minutes, my favorite general practitioner drove a porcupine quill (aka syringe) into a golf-ball-sized ganglion cyst near my thumb and drained me, hopefully, dry. 

I begin a new week, surprised that my hand doesn't look like a mashed tomato next week, hoping it will be serviceable enough to grapple with politicians, quick turns in rush hour and whatever else is coming next.

Post new comment

The content of this field is kept private and will not be shown publicly.
  • Web page addresses and e-mail addresses turn into links automatically.
  • Allowed HTML tags: <a> <em> <strong> <cite> <code> <ul> <ol> <li> <dl> <dt> <dd>
  • Lines and paragraphs break automatically.

More information about formatting options

By submitting this form, you accept the Mollom privacy policy.