Life's valuable lessons

In the past ten minutes, I’ve learned two valuable lessons. The first will save people trouble on a daily basis. The second will save America millions and potentially affect the outcome of the next presidential election.

We are leaving for the weekend to see some family in Connecticut, and so we are doing all the things necessary for such a trip. That is, my wife is panicking and I’m saying reassuring things like, “Relax, we have plenty of time.” Meanwhile, I’m actually doing some semi-constructive things, like trying to convince the kids to clean up (which is about as productive as trying to convince a cat to do something against its will) and doing the dishes. So I walk into the kitchen to do some dishes, and there’s a white foamy puddle spreading out across the kitchen floor. Like a mutant amoeba from a B flick, it extends its pseudopod towards me and (I swear) moans.

I remain nonchalant. In times like this, I am like a well-oiled machine. I know exactly what to do, and I do it right away. I call to my wife.

“Uh, Chris, we have a problem with the dishwasher.”

Mind you, this comes at exactly the wrong time. Our vacuum cleaner died, our clothes dryer died, and we’re trying to buy a house on a budget and a time limit. So the idea of needing a dishwasher is not a pleasant one.

Christine enters the kitchen. Now it’s her turn not to panic. She takes one look at the living, breathing creature coming towards me and says, “Oops.”

“Oops?” I repeat, in what is destined to go down in history as one of the most intelligent comebacks ever recorded.

“Yeah. Oops.”

“What do you mean, ‘oops’?”

“I mean, I guess you can’t put dish washing detergent in the dishwasher.”

So there’s lesson number one, folks. Don’t put dish washing detergent in the dishwasher. (And by this, I mean the stuff you use to do dishes at the sink. By all means, keep using the stuff meant for the dishwasher. If you don't use anything at all, your dishes get crusty. This too, I know from experience.(I don't know what happens if you use laundry detergent. A future experiment?)) If you do use dish washing detergent, then halfway through the cycle you can open your dishwasher to see a wall of white foam. Penetrate this wall, and you may be able to catch sight of your dishes (which, by the way, turn out sparkling clean). And most of all, if you choose to ignore my advice and use the detergent anyway, don’t bother filling the little time-release container in the dishwasher. Half the required amount is more than enough.

The second lesson came just after we had finished mopping up after the first (using the kitchen rug rather than a mop because “it needed washing anyway”). My 3-year-old son came into the kitchen with tears in his eyes. He had an imaginary scratch on his little finger that needed tending to. So of course, being the dutiful father, I gave it a kiss and said, “All better?”

He grinned, nodded, and ran off, happy as could be.

So I started thinking, why don’t hospitals take advantage of this power of healing? Imagine this. You fall down the stairs and hear a “crack!” in your leg. Searing pain lances up your thigh. You scream in terror, whip out the cell phone, dial 911. Four minutes later, the ambulance arrives amid a flurry of lights and sirens, and with an exhibition of the most amazing efficiency, stick you on a stretcher and whisk you off to the hospital. At 60 mph, they truck you down the streets, whipping around corners, calling ahead to give all your pertinent medical information to the ER docs. You back into the ambulance bay, they wheel you out, through the doors, down the hall, and into a private room. The curtain is drawn shut. A few minutes later, a pretty nurse comes in, looks at your chart, and says, “Well, what have we here?”

You say, through gritted teeth, “I think I broke my leg.”

“Oh, what a shame!” she says. Then she leans over and kisses it. “There. All better?”

And you hop off the bed, thank her, and walk home.

Think of how this would revolutionize the medical field! Insurance rates would nose-dive. The cost of medicine would beat Canada's. The only time you would be able to sue for malpractice would be if the doctor kissed your left wrist instead of your right. Medicare, HMO’s, long waits in the doctor’s office would all be things of the past. All we need is someone to promote it. So who’s it gonna be? I guarantee, whether it be Bush or Kerry, the sure route to the Oval Office is in the simple slogan, “Kiss a Boo-Boo, Make It Better”.