Turkey Tales

Tonight Sam and I started getting ready for tomorrow's big dinner. We would have to inject it, Sam told me. That was a thought that chilled this born vegetarian's heart. He brought out this evil looking steel trochar needle with a 50 cc syrringe, filled it will some kind of marinade and began injecting it into the meaty portions of the turkey. He would jab the needle into the thigh and slowly, as he injected the marinade, the thigh would balloon out. After he went for the breast, I started to tingle at the top of my head and thought I might pass out if I didn't focus my eyes on Sam's forehead. Pretty sad for someone who used to do worse things to humans in the trauma ICU unit! Thankfully, the phone rang and I was able to flee the scene with my dignity intact.
I recalled the first morning shift I ever worked in the ICU, back when I was a nurse. I'd worked for six years on the evening shift, and didn't realize that I wasn't at my best in the morning. My patient, that first day, had been in an airplane accident and had a head swathed in blood-saturated bandages. His head was as big as a basketball and there were no openings in the bandages except one for his ET (breathing) tube. And there was a huge sign on the wall over his head that said, "I can't see you but I can hear you." When I walked into that room and saw that huge, bloody head, I got that same tingly feeling at the top of my head that I got tonight, injecting the turkey. What an odd feeling, I remember thinking, before I wobbled out the door and headed for the orange juice.
Well, our swollen little turkey is resting in the fridge, marinade dripping out of it. I think I'll enjoy the veggies and fake meat loaf tomorrow with one of our vegetarian guests, good and late in the day so there will be no early morning head tingling going on.
Happy Thanksgiving!