During the eight days of Banjo Man’s hospital adventures, I was treated kindly by many, many strangers who worked for the hospital systems.  And such kindness was very much appreciated.

To my bemusement (is that a word?) the women at the screening area at Yale-New Haven called me, “Sunshine”.  They called everyone “Sunshine”.

Here’s your ID and your name tag.  You’re all set, Sunshine.

That was a new one.  Possibly a Connecticut thing?

There was once a very young nursing assistant who referred to Banjo Man as “sweetheart”.

Baffling.

The one that made me wish I was a loud, violent person was when a 50’ish male nurse practitioner called me “young lady”.

I wanted to scream, “SHUT UP!  I AM SEVENTY!  CALL ME MA’AM OR MRS., YOU PATRONIZING IDIOT!!!”

Of course I didn’t.  He was showing me a CT scan of a possible colon blockage (it wasn’t) and discussing possible surgery (there would be none) and that surgeons were on call and standing by (we didn’t need them).  It was in Banjo Man’s best interest that I be polite and absorb the information.

The Texans have this name thing down pat.  Everyone is “ma’am” or “sir”.  Works for me!

So keeping the theme of this blog, here’s a little blast from 1971.  Rest in peace, Steve Goodman and John Prine.  And thank you for one of the great, comic country western songs.