Sunday, December 22, 2013
Monday, June 17, 2013
Friday, June 7, 2013
- They do not have the skills to do the job
- They do not have the time to do the job
- They do not have the tools or procedures to do the job
- They do not have formal access to user experts to help with the job, and
- They are not evaluated on how well they do the job
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Consider a test you get in school. The goal of the test is to show that you understand a topic, by asking questions of you about the topic. Depending on the subject, the questions may be specific, fact-based (When did the USSR launch Sputnik?); they may be logic-based (Sputnik orbits the earth every 90 minutes, at an altitude of 250 km. How fast is it moving?); or they may be interpretative (Why did the Soviet Union launch the Sputnik satellite?)
Or they can be just evil: write an essay about Sputnik. Whoever provides the longest answer will pass the test.
Note that by asking similar questions we learn about the student's capabilities in different dimensions. So when a piece of software shows up, the purpose of testing should not be to find out what it does (a never-ending quest) but to find out if it does what it is supposed to do (conformance to requirements). The requirements may be about specific functions (Does the program correctly calculate the amount of interest on this loan?); about operational characteristics (Does the program support 10,000 concurrent users submitting transactions at an average rate of one every three minutes, while providing response times under 1.5 sec for 95 percent of those users as measured at the network port?); or about infrastructural characteristics (Does the program support any W3C-compliant browser?)
These metrics follow from the program's intended use. Management may use other metrics to evaluate the staff: How many bugs did we find? Who found the most? How much time does it take, on average, to find a bug? How long does it take to fix one? Who created the most bugs?
The problem with these metrics is they generally misinform managers, and lead to perverse behaviors. If I am rated on the number of bugs I write, then I have a reason to write as little code as possible, and stay away from the hard stuff entirely. If I am rated on the number of bugs I find, then I am going to discourage innovations that would improve the quality of new products. So management must focus on those metrics that will meet the wider goal - produce high quality, low defect code, on time.
Software testing takes a lot of thinking: serious, hard, detailed, clear, patient, logical reasoning. Metrics are not testing - they are a side effect, and they can have unintended consequences if used unwisely. Taylor advised care when picking any metric. Often misquoted as "you can't manage what you do not measure," Taylor's intent was to warn us. Lord Kelvin said "You cannot calculate what you do not measure" but he was talking about chemistry, not management. Choose your metrics with care.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Now suppose the crowd starts walking over a bridge. How would you derive the total stress on the structure? You might estimate the average weight of the people in the crowd, and multiply that by the estimated number of people on the bridge. So you estimate there are 2,000 people, and the average weight is 191 pounds (for men) and 164.3 pounds (for women), and pull out the calculator. (These numbers come from the US Centers for Disease Control, and refer to 2002 data for adult US citizens).
So let's estimate that half the people are men. That gives us 191,000 pounds, and for the women, another 164,300 pounds. So the total load is 355,300 pounds. Right?
No. Since the least precise estimate has one significant digit (2,000) then the calculated result must be rounded off to 400,000 pounds.
In other words, you cannot invent precision, even when some of the numbers are more precise than others.
The problem gets even worse when the estimates are widely different in size. The odds of a very significant information security problem are vanishingly small, while the impact of a very significant information security problem can be inestimably huge. When you multiply two estimates of such low precision, and such widely different magnitudes, you have no significant digits: None at all. The mathematical result is indeterminate, unquantifiable.
Another way of saying this is that the margin of error exceeds the magnitude of the result.
What are the odds that an undersea earthquake would generate a tsunami of sufficient strength to knock out three nuclear power plants, causing (as of 2/5/12) 573 deaths? Attempting that calculation wastes time. (For more on that number, see http://bangordailynews.com/2012/02/05/news/world-news/573-deaths-certified-as-nuclear-crisis-related-in-japan/?ref=latest)
The correct approach is to ask, if sufficient force, regardless of origin, could cripple a nuclear power plant, how do I prepare for such an event?
In information security terms, the problem is compounded by two additional factors. First, information security attacks are not natural phenomena; they are often intentional, focused acts with planning behind them. And second, we do not yet understand whether the distribution of intentional acts of varying complexity (both in design and in execution) follow a bell curve, a power law, or some other distribution. This calls into question the value of analytical techniques - including Bayesian analysis.
The core issue is quite simple. If the value of the information is greater than the cost of getting it, the information is not secure. Properly valuing the information is a better starting place than attempting to calculate the likelihood of various attacks.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Found at a cave in southwestern France, the Blanchard Bone is a curious artifact. It appears to be between 25,000 and 32,000 years old. It is only four inches long. It is engraved with about 69 small figures, arranged in a sequence of a flattened figure eight. Archeologists tell us that the carving required twenty-four changes of point or stroke.
What is it? Looking closely at the carving, it seems that the 69 images represent the phases of the moon over two lunar months (image courtesy of Harvard University, Peabody Museum). It isn’t writing: That was still 20,000 to 27,000 years – over four hundred generations and two ice ages – in the future.
What would the night sky mean to our ancestors so long ago? The Sun was directly responsible for heat and light, and defined the rhythm of days. But the Moon moved so slowly, in comparison. What was it? What did our fathers and mothers think they were looking at, when the Moon rose and traveled across the sky, changing its shape from day to day, but always following the same pattern?
Yet the Moon’s travels had implications and meanings: The Sea responded to the Moon in its tides – or did the tides somehow pull the Moon along? How did that happen? What was going on between the Moon and the Sea?
The ancient artist/scientist/priest who carved this artifact carved what she saw – and more. The artifact was useful, for knowing when to plant, when the birds, the herds, or the fish were migrating, when it might be a good time to find a warm cave. The Moon measured fertility and gestation. When people speculated on this, they began to think – about what they saw, and what it meant.
Some wondered if the bone might be magically linked to the Moon and the Sea. Who among them could not be perplexed by the gymnastics, by the dance, of the Moon?
What would that inevitable nighttime procession inspire? How many nights could people look at the slow but predictable change, observe its correlations, and not be challenged to wonder? The first instances of human reasoning could have been inspired by this persistent phenomenon.
In “Hamlet’s Mill: An Essay Investigating the Origins of Human Knowledge and its Transmission through Myth,” Giorgio Desantillana and Hertha von Dechen propose that the myths, as Aristotle taught, are about the stars. The authors trace the myth of Hamlet back to Amlodhi, who owned a magical mill. Once it ground out peace, but it fell off its axle and on the beach ground out sand, and now it has fallen into the Sea where it grinds out salt. I the author’s essay, they reveal that this myth is a story to capture and preserve the observation of the precession of the equinoxes. This is a 25,950 year long cycle, during which the Earth’s North Pole traces a great circle through the heavens. Now the North Pole points to the Pole Star in Ursa Minor, but in 13,000 years it will point to Vega. Only a medium as persistent as a story could span the ages, capturing and preserving this observation.
When the Blanchard bone was formed, the sky was much as it will appear tonight. Between then and now we have passed through one Great Year. When the North Pole pointed to Vega last, our species was beginning to colonize the Western hemisphere, the ice age was capturing water and lowering the seas, and the Blanchard bone had been lost for ten thousand years.
Let us remember that ancient scientist/artist/priest, let us regard her qualities of observation, synthesis, and imagination with wonder: her discovery in the sky urged us to consciousness, communication, and endless wonders beyond.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
"GULYASUPPE" GOULASH SOUP SERVES 4
Beef chuck cut in 1/4" cubes 1 lb.
Olive Oil 1 Tblsp
Butter 1 Tblsp
Onions diced 1/4” 1/2 cup
Flour 2 oz.
Ground Cumin 1 tsp
Chili powder 1/2 tsp
Paprika 2 Tblsp
Cayenne pepper 1 tsp
Fresh ground pepper & salt 1 tsp (to taste)
Chicken stock 5 cups
Boiled potato in 1/4" dice 3 medium
Sour cream 2 oz
Egg noodles 1 lb.
Sauté beef in some oil and butter, till lightly brown. Set aside, keep warm. Add oil to pan and add onions and sauté till golden brown (clear). Set aside with beef. Add oil and butter to pan, add flour, cumin, chili powder, paprika, salt, pepper, and cayenne pepper. Blend 5 or 6 minutes over low heat. Remove from heat and mix in meat and onions. Add 2 cups of stock and mix until smooth, let sit for 10 minutes off heat. Cover pan and return to heat, simmer for 45 minutes or until meat is tender. Add remaining stock and potatoes. Skim fat, correct seasonings (add salt and pepper to taste). Serve over egg noodles.
Let melted butter cover top to hold from afternoon till dinner. You may add a little tomato paste to thicken, if you like. When serving, add a dollop of sour cream or chives to top if you like.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
The repair left the meniscus tapered, thinner on the outside than on the inside. Over the years, that unevenness increased, and in December 2008 the discomfort passed my threshold of tolerance. I spoke with a new orthopaedist (the other doctor had retired), Dr. John Crowe, of Orthopaedic and Neurological Services, who informed me that a knee replacement can last 20 years or more – not the seven to ten I’d learned from some inaccurate article floating around the Internet. I asked him if he were busy next Tuesday. He laughed and said that he was booked for the next few weeks, so we scheduled the surgery for after the turn of the year. On January 19th I drove myself to Greenwich Hospital, registered, and had the TKA (total knee arthroplasty). Greenwich Hospital has the lowest rate of post-operative infection of all hospitals in the state of Connecticut. This is especially important for any kind of implant surgery: things get bleak if there is an infection involving an implant.
The path to the surgery took a good deal of time and effort. The hospital offered a two hour class on the day before Christmas to guide people facing a knee or hip replacement. After the class, I arranged with the local Red Cross to donate a pint of blood on Dec. 30th that the hospital would hold for the surgery. I started a course of exercise to strengthen the muscles around the knee. Getting the insurance company aligned took exceptional patience, but eventually they were able to provide some measure of support for my impending adventure. I was very fortunate to arrange post-operative recovery and rehabilitation through Waveney Care Center, very near my apartment.
Monday morning was cold. I was up well before dawn, as I had to drive to Greenwich and check in, bringing a bag with clothing and my laptop. The kind folks at the registration desk processed my arrival as courteously and efficiently as at a high-class hotel. I was brought to a pre-op room where I stowed my bags and changed into the hospital gown. I lay down on the hospital bed and a nurse started the IV. After I talked with the OR nurse, I was wheeled into the operating room. The surgery began shortly after 7:00 AM. I remember the bright lights and very cool air in the OR – the temperature suppresses infection, I was told. The anesthesiologist told me that I was about to go under and then I went out – in the middle of a word.
In the course of the operation the surgeon replaces the lower surface of the femur (thigh) joint, the upper surface of the tibia (shin) joint, and the back of the patella (kneecap). The operation could more accurately be called a knee resurfacing, but the common name is Total Knee Replacement or Total Knee Arthroscopy (TKA). As part of the operation, the surgeon removes the anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) since its attachment point is replaced by the mechanical bearing surface. Its function is replaced by elements of the implant. In my case, the surgeon selected the Zimmer Legacy System LPS-flex.
I have not posted my pre-op or post-op X-rays. I might at some future time. Suffice it to say that the surgery was necessary, as noted in this excerpt from the surgeon’s report:
“… There were advanced degenerative changes noted. There was bone exposed on both the lateral femoral condyle and lateral tibial plateau with grooving of the bone….”
I awoke in recovery three hours later, feeling disoriented but not that bad. A nurse helped me stand for a moment to show me that I could bear weight on my new knee, then guided me back into bed. The pain medicine seemed to not be working, which caused me a sense of panic, but the nurse was able to increase the dose a bit which helped somewhat. Some time later I noticed that my left leg was in a mechanical apparatus (continuous passive motion, or CPM, machine) that gently bent my left knee and then extended it, to keep it mobile while the wound healed. I used that machine for more than an hour each day, increasing the flex a few degrees at each session. The machine’s action was not painful: The discomfort from the surgery was not localized, and seeing my leg actually move was comforting. I did feel some discomfort when the physical therapist increased the range of motion.
By Thursday Jan. 22nd I was beginning to feel more alert, at least enough to complain that the pain medicine was clearly not working, and could they try something else? I was moved to Darvocet, then Vicodin (the drug of choice for my anti-hero Dr. Gregory House). Later I learned that the drugs were working just fine, the problem was that the operation is, frankly, painful. I remained somewhat light-headed and my blood pressure wasn’t coming up very rapidly, so the doctor decided to transfuse my pint of blood back. This helped: my vital signs improved. With the exception of the CPM sessions, my left leg was immobilized using a fabric-lined thigh-to-ankle sleeve, open along the front, strengthened with four or five very firm plastic strips, and secured with five Velcro bands. The first few days, it was hard to close – my leg was quite swollen. Once I got moving, and the swelling began to subside, it closed quite easily. I used the immobilizer into my first week at Waveny.
I brought my laptop with me. That Thursday I wrote my first post-op e-mail. It contained 24 words, and I got seven of them wrong. At the time I thought I was quite lucid. I later forwarded it to my friend and asked him if he could figure out what I might have meant. The pain-killers were stronger than I thought. I wonder what the hospital staff thought I was saying: I felt I was being very clear. That day, I achieved 76 degrees of flex, not quite the 80 degrees the physical therapist at Greenwich Hospital had hoped for, but close enough.
On Friday the 23rd I was helped into a wheelchair and driven from the hospital to Waveny in New Canaan. The driver was a Spanish immigrant, and we talked about Madrid and the opportunities that brought him to the US during the short ride. I got to Waveny in the early afternoon and they had already set a lunch aside for me. The desert was a home-made cream puff – it was so tasty! In fact, all the food was great. I hadn’t eaten so well since my last good vacation – and the meals were healthy and the portions just right. One of the physical therapists – Trisha – visited me that first afternoon. Her concern and sensitivity to my discomfort and uncertainty was profoundly comforting. On Saturday one of the occupational therapists – Gus – stopped by to see how I was doing. I said that I’d been working out with free weights at home and hadn’t had a chance to do anything for a while – could he get me a small weight I could use? He left for a moment and brought me a weight, then he sat alongside me and we talked while I did some upper body work, lying in my recuparatory bed, happy to feel that something was unchanged and more would be getting back on track. It is hard to express how emotionally moving it was, and still is in reflection, to feel that genuine compassion and care. I had not felt such a pervasive sense of concern for my well-being since I lived at home as a young boy.
Dr. Crowe said that I should remain in the immobilizer until I could do a straight leg lift. That took into the weekend, six or so days after surgery. Friday was discharge day from the hospital and admittance day at Waveny. Saturday they offered one hour of rehab, but I don’t recall doing much. Sunday was for rest, but I was able to get out of bed unassisted that evening.
On Monday Jan 26th, I began my regimen of two daily one-hour physical therapy sessions, the first at 9:00 AM, the second at 1:00 PM. My physical therapist, Wrenford, wore a shirt labeled “Physical Terrorist” asserting his determination and gusto. And so the work began. It seemed that every day I achieved another milestone. In a few days I started using a cane rather than the walker.
On the evening of Wednesday Jan 28th, after dinner, my daughters visited me with their Mom and stayed till 8:30 PM. When I walked with them to the exit, one remarked with surprise that my legs were straight! I had begun looking at my toes on my left foot anew. Even though my knee was still swollen, it was properly aligned over my ankle, just where it was supposed to be. For years I had grown used to my left foot being a bit further out to the side, and here it was right next to the right foot, where it belonged. I thought, “I love my new knee!”
Initially I took my meals in my room, watching TV or working on the computer. Encouraged by the nursing staff, I began walking to the cafeteria. During meals I got to know others who had knee or hip replacements. There were eight or nine of us, and we would usually sit together at two or three tables. One male patient was a schoolteacher from Westchester County. He was a gregarious NY sports fan. One female patient was joined at lunch by her husband, a cultured, charming gentleman from central Europe. They had raised six girls, and he had authored two books: one on gardening and one on the gardens of Moravia – with insightful commentary on the history and politics of the region.
I did not expect to get involved in occupational therapy, but the Waveny Care Center wants its patients to get along after returning home. The difference between OT and PT was put simply: PT is for the waist down and OT is from the waist up. I asked what the specific goals of OT were, and it turned out that I could meet them by using their kitchen. So I took the opportunity to make a batch of my Black Bean Soup (the recipe is posted elsewhere in this blog). One of the OTs bought the ingredients! I cooked it up and it was pretty good. I was able to use the stove, blender, tools and sink; reach items in cabinets overhead and load the dishwasher; and cook without getting off-balance or fumbling with the cane.
On Tuesday February 3rd, during the morning PT session, I was able to get 90 revolutions on the stationary bike, and - for the first time since the surgery - I walked without a cane. I was still apprehensive on the stairs, fearing that I might get my toe caught and trip. But each day I would do a little better, breaking down the motion of walking up a step into its components: minor weight shift (but don’t rock the hips), lift up from the knee, move the heel back then up, place the ball of the foot squarely on the next tread, shift weight (but don't rock the hip), lift with the quadriceps, bring the other leg to the next step, keeping the knee pointing forward. Repeat.
On Wednesday, I was able to achieve 86 degrees of flex in the knee. Stairs were challenging, I didn’t have the strength to climb normally but with the cane I could make my way up and down, one step at a time, haltingly. Thursday February 5th was my check-out from Waveny.
New Canaan has a program called GetAbout – residents can request transportation within the town by phoning in a few days in advance. They have a small bus and a van, and I used both. I had PT three times a week. On Tuesday the 10th, I got a ride with my ex to see our daughters’ choir concert in Weston. I was able to ride in the passenger seat both ways, and the girls were surprised and delighted to see me – and I was so proud of their performances! I used a cane to walk from the car to the auditorium, and got a spot on the end of a row so I could stretch out my leg. I never got too good with the cane. My goal was not to get good with the cane, but to get rid of the cane.
That weekend I picked up my car from Greenwich Hospital and drove home – freedom! My first stop was a car wash: Four weeks in the garage had left a remarkably thick layer of dust over the whole car, and someone had drawn a bit of art in the window-panes. I stopped at the grocery store and picked up a few things. Peapod was an enormous help during my immobile phase.
Over the next few sessions I documented my knee's progress on Facebook:
Friday, Feb 13th: 91 degrees.
Monday, Feb 16th: 99 degrees. My primary physical therapist, Jane, noticed that I was very tight on the outside of my left leg. Prior to the surgery I had become knock-kneed by over 10 degrees in my left leg. Now that my leg was straight, the muscles and tendons on the outside of my left leg were stretched taut. She recommended calf stretches and a particular massage across the tendons. It was acutely uncomfortable for about 55 seconds – and then it felt great. I started doing the massage at home. I was never able to get as much relief as that first time, but every time helped a bit more.
Wednesday, Feb 18th: 105 deg (but was only able to get to 104 on Friday Feb 20th).
I started walking up and down the stairs in my apartment, haltingly.
Tuesday, Feb 24th: 108 degrees.
Wednesday, Feb 25th: 110 degrees. This is an important milestone – once I was able to get 110 degrees I could move my foot enough to safely go up and down stairs.
On Tuesday, March 3, six weeks post-op, I had a follow-up visit with Dr Crowe. I had achieved 110 degrees of flex and in the office, with no warm-up, I was past 105 degrees. Dr. Crowe advised me that my goal was to reach 120 degrees, so I was well along. This was a significant relief – I had assumed that I was behind schedule on my way to 135 degrees. It turns out I was on schedule for 120, and all was well.
Friday, March 20: 118 degrees.
Over time the swelling in my left ankle diminished rapidly, while my calf took longer. I still have swelling around my knee, and I’m told that will persist into the summer. On Wednesday, March 25, I achieved 120 degrees of flex. The discomfort as of April 5 is minor, mostly associated with the swelling and weakness around the knee. I am able to go up and down stairs with just a minor, diminishing halt to the downstairs gate. The biggest problem I have in day-to-day life now is remembering to get up and walk a bit every twenty minutes or so. By the end of the day, my knee is sometimes a bit stiff. I’m told that by June I should be able to golf.
I graduated from physical therapy on Tuesday, March 31. Wrenford (while I was an in-patient), Jane (my lead physical therapist while I was an out-patient), Hillary and Trisha and the nursing, occupational therapy, and support staff at Waveny were profoundly helpful, supportive, understanding, and positive. You are all amazing people and make a superior team!
If you want to understand the surgical procedure involved in a total knee replacement, see this lecture by Dr. Seth Leopold of the University of Washington in which he discusses both the total knee and uni-compartmental knee surgery, and also discusses conventional hip and minimally invasive hip repair. His lecture includes a brief edited video showing elements of the procedure.
I met three others during my stint at Waveny who had both knees done simultaneously. I could not imagine that degree of discomfort – but they each said they wanted to get through it. One said that if she hadn’t done both at the same time, she probably wouldn’t have had the courage to get the second one done at all. On the other hand, a neighbor of mine had one knee done last fall and the other a few weeks before I had my surgery. He and I met at the pre-Christmas class at Greenwich Hospital. He’s doing very well.
If you want to talk about your TKA please post to this blog and I’d be happy to hear your story, or share more about mine. I’m done with the drugs, except for an occasional ibuprofen and some ice. I took a walk around the block this afternoon and it felt great! It’s been years since I was last able to do that. I'm looking forward to golfing this summer with my daughters and my doctors.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Some time ago I flew from the east coast to
Why is it that all airline pilots sound like they were raised in west
Our pilot, Billy Roy, continued: “The on-board computer seemed to think that the flaps weren’t balanced, so it automatically retracted the flaps. We’re going to run a quick diagnostic and we’ll have you on the ground right away.”
Why is it that the notion of being in the ground right away is supposed to inspire confidence? There are times when I’d be more confident if I know we could stay up in the air until everything was fixed.
After a few moments, Billy Roy got back on the PA system: “So the flaps are up and the computer is sure that they aren’t balanced, so we’re just gonna scoot up to LAX and land there. They’ve got real long runways so we’ll be just fine.”
At this point everyone in the front of the plane, where I happened to be for this trip, got very nervous. We all had played with Microsoft Flight Simulator, and we all know what happened when you tried to land with zero flaps. Basically, the plane can’t slow as much as the pilot would like, because the flaps provide extra lift at lower speeds. If you try to slow down too much without any flaps, your aircraft will stall and fall out of the sky. So when you land with no flaps, you hit the runway about 40 or 50 knots faster than you would like. This puts extra stress on the brakes, which might fail. Even if the brakes hold up, you’ll take up a lot of tarmac before you get to a stop. Hopefully not all of it.
Billy Roy got back on the mic: “So we’re gonna land here at LAX and just as a routine procedure you might notice some equipment along the runway, but again this is simply a routine procedure and we’ll be fine. Once we get to the gate we’ll get this all sorted out and we’ll just get on down to
We came in at about 240 knots, and sure enough there was some equipment along the runway: Ambulances, fire trucks, and a couple of other vehicles I couldn’t name, although I thought I’d seen them in the final scene of the movie Airplane!
When we did come to a stop, about 15 yards from the end of the 2-mile long runway, Billy Roy got back on the air: “We’ll be transferring your luggage to busses for the short drive to
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
In vivo fertilization? Transmigration of the soul? The collapse of the Communist ideology followed two decades later by the near-collapse of the bastion of capitalist economic theory? Is government bad or good? Is more government necessary or dangerous? Should business seek less regulation to pursue profit maximization, or endure more to mitigate investor risk? When, if ever, is property theft?
Café Diem’s food is free – but Vincent, the café owner, does not trade on that munificence to accumulate political or personal power, rather he serves everyone anything they want, regardless of their behavior, character, or status in the community. This conviviality is economically unsustainable, so must be interpreted symbolically. (It would trivialize the story to interpret it as political economics.) Manna, water from the Rock, a boundless gift.
Henry’s Garage fixes everything without counting the cost. Who else but Henry would officiate at weddings, become mayor by acclimation, and speak truth to power – his defiance of Eva Thorne is signatory. He refused to participate in a morally ambiguous activity, not because it is evil but because he does not have sufficient information to determine if it is evil or good. His wise pragmatism, a counterbalance to naïve enthusiasm, makes him an ideal confidant and teacher to the Sheriff’s late-Jobian incomprehension and acceptance of the mystery and power of Science, the symbolic manifestation of the Deity in our pragmatic 21st Century.
We each have our Vincent, our Henry, and our Eva. We each face demands for moral choice in the face of ambiguous but powerful forces beyond our comprehension. How to find a trusted wise counselor, and avoid a con man? Each day we awake to a new world, trusting in some of our gifts, assaying our strengths and weaknesses, reflecting on the path we have trod so far, contemplating our next steps. Sheriff Carter’s gumption and plain common sense in the midst of chaos offer a healing presence, a promise that we can make the right choice.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
At 3:30 I turned off the Mets at the Reds (tied), picked up the map I’d Googled last night, and walked out to the car. Man it was hot! The AC kicked in soon and I rolled down the Merritt towards New York City. At 4:50 I was parking outside Butler Hall on West 119th. The guard told me that any elevator would go to the top floor, just push “R” for restaurant. I stepped out into a smallish alcove and met M., the event planner. She was expecting me. I asked her if there might be a food service cart of some kind. She said that the back was already closed and everyone had gone home, so, no, there wasn’t anything available.
She pointed to a beautiful floral place setting with purple iris, hydrangea, and some white and blue flowers I didn’t recognize. “There’s that centerpiece, and there are 15 table arrangements over there.” These were described as 6x6 – they were 6” tall glass cylinders, 6” across, stuffed with the same types of flowers as the main piece, but without the hydrangea. They were nearly full of water which meant they each weighed a bit more than I’d expected, but pouring out the water would have risked the flowers all wilting on their journey and that would make the trip less worthwhile. So I took them down to the car two at a time. My biceps got a fair workout! M. had a helpful suggestion: She would hold the elevator at the restaurant while I loaded it up with arrangements, and the guard on the lobby would hold the elevator while I unloaded them. I thanked her for the idea and followed that plan. Much better! The flowers all fit nicely in the back of the car.
I drove down Amsterdam Ave. and took a left at 114th St. There was no place to park, though; so I tooled around the block until I saw a space open up on the northbound side of Amsterdam Ave. I carried the first two arrangements into the lobby at St Luke’s hospital, signed in, and asked the guard how to get to 9 West - the geriatric ward. Up the elevator to 9, then turn left when you get to the corridor. 9 West is at the end. I thanked him then asked if he might have some kind of cart or even a spare wheelchair. (My forearms were feeling the burn.) He looked around but nothing was available. With his permission I left the first two arrangements behind his desk then walked back to the car to get another pair.
After the fourth trip, he found a cart – a nice one, with two decks. I rolled it out to the car, thanking the inventor of the wheel, put the large centerpiece on the top, and filled the base with the remaining seven arrangements. The ride had seemed smooth but most of the arrangements had splashed a bit, their sides were slippery. I did not want to drop one and have the glass shards scatter all over the floor! That would be a déclassé introduction. But every piece made it up to the ward safely. When I came down the corridor with my cart, every nurse stopped to say how beautiful the flowers were! I said, thanks – it gets better. I asked them if I could put the large arrangement on their station, and they were very happy about that. Then I picked up one of the arrangements and walked into a patient’s room.
“Hi, I brought this for you. Where would you like it?”
The elderly woman in the bed had a visitor, a man leaning back in a chair. He offered to take the vase but I told him that it was a bit slippery and heavy, so I would just put it on the window if that was okay. She asked, “How much does it cost?” Nothing, there was a wedding a few blocks from here and they asked if I could bring the flowers to you. They are already paid for.
Her room-mate was alone and seemed introspective. I told her that I’d brought her some flowers and where would she like them? She was shocked and exclaimed that she was beginning to feel a bit depressed but this certainly snapped her out of that! Then she recited a lengthy prayer in rhyme. We said Amen, and I thanked her for the blessing, and wished her a happy Sunday. As I was leaving, she reminded me to thank the people who donated the flowers.
Down the hall, the elderly man in the breathing mask didn’t want any flowers, so I turned to his room-mate, who said that he did not want the whole arrangement, but that he would like a single purple flower. Purple was his favorite color. He asked how long it might last, and I said that if we put it in a bit of water it should be good for a few days. I went to the nurse’s station and asked them if they might have an empty water bottle or something to use as a vase. Patient C. didn’t want the whole arrangement, he just wanted one iris. A nurse produced a glass vase and C. got his one purple flower for his bed-table.
I took the cart back downstairs and filled it with the remaining arrangements. One of the assistants took some grief from a nurse who asked him why he never brought her some flowers. I said in a stage whisper that I’d put his name on a gift card in the next batch –
By the time I got back, the nurses had picked out where the rest of the arrangements would go. Many, many smiles and thanks. I brought the cart back to the lobby, thanked the guard (after telling him about the dialog between the nurse and the assistant) and drove home, feeling very good.
I snapped this picture of the guard's desk with the last batch of arrangements at St Luke's:
The FlowerPower Foundation takes donations of flowers from weddings, funerals, and corporate events. Volunteers re-purpose these flowers into vases and deliver them to people in hospices, long term care facilities, and, as today, geriatric wards. There are chapters in New York and Los Angeles. If you would like to donate your time, flowers, or funds to FlowerPower, please visit their web site at http://www.flowerpowerfoundation.org