the woman with no spleen
I met a woman today who has no spleen. She is very worried about her son having sex. She read that the AIDs virus passes right through condums and stores itself in the spleen. Then it sits there. For years.
She lost her spleen in a motorcycle accident.
She lost her husband in that accident too.
It hurt more to lose him than to lose her spleen, I think. She has not dated since and that was sixteen years ago.
Her son is eighteen and dating now.
The man who hit them was an unlicensed driver.
She drives a bus.
Irony.
11 Responses to the woman with no spleen
Life just loves to kick some of us right in the teeth..doesn’t it?
No cheap comments coming from this corner of the peanut gallery- not this time.
The woman with no spleen got a rough ticket. She looked okay when I saw her. I guess it took them a long time to put her back together though after that accident.
I will never see her again. I just met her in passing and she told me her story. People do that. I always wonder whether they tell everyone their story, or just me. I think sometimes it is just me. There is safety in giving your story to a stranger.
That is sad.
My sister lost her husband almost 5 years ago and she has not dated since either.
Max, it’s true- sometimes people give their stories away because they want those stories to be heard.
And who but to give it to then a story teller?
I’m not sure if people are always do this and some of us are so disconnected that we don’t realize it- or if people have a weird sense of knowing that they’re stories are about to be passed on.
Thank you Anita Marie for having more common sense regarding cheap comments than this nut almost exhibited.
She told you for a reason. sometimes I take Zach out in the world and I never say, oh sorry he has autism, anymore. Unless they are worthy and compassionate, I just, make way for crazy. I would tell someone like you, and I also tell other kids, if they give me that look………..
I wonder the same thing, if they tell everyone their stories or if it’s just me. Or if it is that I ask the sort of questions most people don’t.
I think I just laugh in all the right places.
I used to hear far more stories, because I’d sit there kind of agog, but a whole lot sympathetic, asking, “Oh my god, what happened then?” and “Why would he DO that?” and stuff. Sometimes my questions were rude, but I didn’t know it. I was just so damned curious. Then I finally realized that people do talk easily to me sometimes, and my “curiosity” was pretty abusive. I figured that out when I realized there were a number of people I knew only casually who considered me to be very close friends, and I finally figured out it was because they’d told me things they would only tell a close friend. They felt a closeness I didn’t, and it was pretty much my fault, so I’ve learned not to be so nosy/rude/curious.
But sometimes it’s hard.
Scratching Pooks off my BFF list…
Just kidding. Pooks, I can’t imagine a rude thing coming out of your mouth. Please.
She can curse a blue streak though.