Use Your Damn Blinker
Like most red-blooded Americans, my language becomes quite colorful when I am driving. Everyone except me is a moron. Or a maniac. And has no clue how to drive. I obey the nine is fine rule which implies anything nine miles over the speed limit is ok. Don’t argue, just nod in agreement. I am sure this rule is written somewhere, but don’t look it up. I may have made it up. I do stop (fully) at stop signs, I don’t run red lights (intentionally), and I use my damn blinker.
What does your blinker signify? Well, duh, obviously that you are turning. But it serves a greater purpose. It is a warning to others whether they are in a car, semi-truck, on a bike or on foot that they need to watch out because you are turning. My husband is a notoriously bad blinker user. He will deny this until his last dying breath. He doesn’t see the point in using it. Ever. But occasionally if I am with him, he does. Like after we’ve made the damn turn, he will flip it on like “see–there, I did it.” Well, it defeats the purpose if you flip it on as you are turning. But, it’s progress, I guess. And the excuses–I forgot, or there weren’t any other cars around, or I thought I turned it on, etc.
What’s the big deal you ask? Well, the big deal is that not only is it a warning sign to others, but it is also something that should be in your automated head bank of things you should do without thinking about them. Do I not brush my teeth because my dentist isn’t watching? Do I not turn my engine off when I pump gas? Do I throw my trash on the ground instead of a nearby trash can because no one is looking? Noooo. It’s madness. Utter and complete madness to me. Now, this time last year, I might have been wreaking hell on my body by drinking my soul and insides away, but I still had the decency to use my damn blinker while doing so. And to use a trash can. Usually. Most of the time.
Your shoes. Do you take them off by the door or track all the nasty that’s living on the bottom of them through your kitchen, onto the living room carpet? I don’t demand anyone remove their shoes at the door upon entering, but I think it’s common courtesy. Plus, don’t you see the piles of shoes by the door? Think maybe we are doing something here? Like not dragging in all the dirt and poop and God only knows what else into our home. I am not a good housekeeper. I will say that without an inkling of shame. People live here. Kids live here. The dog lives here. Hell, I live here. But, after working a long shift at the hospital or the restaurant, I have enough energy left to leave those physical things at the door.
Do you know what you step in at nursing homes and hospitals? Fluids and chunks from every single body hole you can or can’t imagine. It ain’t pretty, that’s for sure. Do you know what you step in as a waitress? All the chewed-up wing bones with saliva still attached, the wet bread that fell on the floor next to the dishwasher (which I might add, is super slippery), and any other gross things that remain on a person’s plate after they eat. Blah. Just nasty.
If you have ever worked as a server in any kind of restaurant, there is traffic. Customers, hostesses, bus boys, other servers, etc. If you go flying out of the kitchen without announcing it first “coming out” or “corner” or whatever the slang is where you work, you will eventually smack right into someone or something. When I have a large tray of food or hot coffee or whatever, I say “behind” if I am walking behind you. Prevents you and me both from getting burned and potentially getting into a confrontation. It’s a blinker of sorts. A warning. Now, if I say, “coming out” and you blast your way in my direction and knock all the shit out of my hands, that’s on you. You did not heed my warning, and trust me, I am loud. Same with the blinker. If you rear end me, and I clearly had my blinker on, guess who the dumbass is? Not me, the law-abiding citizen. It’s on you, the distracted, perhaps moronic, driver.
As a nurse, it is good practice to always explain what you are doing to someone before you do it. If I come rushing at you with a needle and not explaining anything, you are probably going to jump or flinch or possibly injure me. I don’t blame you. So, it’s nice to say something like, “This is the flu vaccine, and I will be cleaning this area of your arm and then administering the injection. You might feel a little pinch or sting. Afterward, make sure to move that arm around to loosen the muscle up so it doesn’t get too sore. Also, here’s a little informational paperwork advising you of any negative side effects to be aware of and what to do if you experience them.” So, you have set up the procedure, what to expect, and after care instructions. It makes it less scary, and sometimes people just need to be informed. They don’t even realize they need to be, but they do.
Do you know how many people refer to their “water pill” as part of their daily medication? Do they even know what this pill does? I guarantee you it does not say “water pill” on the bottle. Does it add water or take it away from your body? What happens if you don’t take it? What happens if you take it before bed? Don’t do this, by the way (you will piss the bed all night long). Too many people just take whatever the doctor recommends and don’t ask questions. But don’t you want to know if it is going to interrupt your sleep? Or if it has a side effect like dry mouth or watering eyes? Get informed. Ask questions. Don’t always rely on Dr. Google because it always lists some of the worst side effects like 1% of the population end up with. Normally, your blood pressure meds won’t make you grow a mustache or anything, but Google may hint that it could. Now, you have been diagnosed with OCD for obsessively and compulsively checking your upper lip for hair.
Addiction is real. It doesn’t use a blinker to signal that it’s making a U-Turn and coming toward you. For you. We don’t talk to our kids about it for fear of making them curious or planting the wrong kind of seed. Would you rather they learn the hard way? The way that many of us do. I gave a speech at a rotary club meeting in 7th grade. I was the county-wide winner of an essay contest with the theme being “Just Say No”. Irony at its best, right?
I loved writing at a young age. And of course everyone was proud of me for winning. I even recall my dad exhaling a big puff of cigarette smoke, and saying, “Nice job, Lou.” And with pride, I spoke on the dangers of alcohol and drugs. In my small, pre-teen voice, I gave a wise message to a captive audience.
Who knew I needed to be listening to my own voice and carrying it with me through life? Where did that message go? How did I lose sight of it? It happens. It happens without warning. Sometimes, it has a warning, the blinkers or signs of an addictive personality. All the warning bells going off. But, of course, I didn’t know that then. That was never going to be my life. My nightmare. It was never going to be a message that was meant for me. But it was a message future Lindsey should have remembered. Your internal blinker can guide you safely in making the right turns in the right timing if you just use it. And use it wisely, not after you’ve already made the turn.