Attitude Is Everything

Tziri Frank

Attitude is everything. Just ask famed psychologists, renowned philosophers, and educated personalities. Or, you can ask me. I know.

It’s taken me a while to come to this realization, (and depending on my mood I do change my mind), but I say sanity is all in your attitude. The way you approach a situation (and people) determines the manner in which you experience it. Every situation has within it the potential for laughter or tears. Crying and getting hysterical over dealing with a special child, or finding the humor in the odd situations that come with having a disabled family member, often produce the same results (or lack thereof), so why not just laugh about it?

These words recently came back to bite me. On what was probably going to be the busiest day of the year, (Erev, Erev Yom Tov), I got a phone call. I really should have missed the call, because I was supposed to have been on my way. But,… With my car keys held between my teeth, and clutching all my various school bags, I was trying to close the front door with my foot, when I remembered that I had left my cell phone upstairs. For just a minute, I was tempted to leave without it, and have some peace and quiet. But then I pictured myself stranded on a deserted road, out of gas, and money, and food (on Route 59 in Monsey????). So I dumped my stuff on the front lawn and raced upstairs. Which brings me back to the ringing house phone. That I breathlessly answered.

            “Mrs. Frank?” questioned a hesitant voice.

            “That’s me,” I answered hurriedly. I was thinking to myself that if this was another telemarketer trying to sell me vacation timeshares in Uganda or electronic nose hair clippers, I was going to climb through the telephone wires to personally take my name off their list once and for all. And I just might possibly inflict some bodily harm on the voice at the other end of the line at the same time. Yes, attitude is everything!

            “Mrs. Frank,” came the same hesitant voice, “I don’t want you to worry, but…”

            Me, “Queen of Calm”, worry? I should say not!

            “But,” the voice went on; “Yossi has been rushed from school with Hatzolah. He had a seizure that just wouldn’t stop so he was taken to the nearest hospital. Someone is there with him now, but I thought you would want to know about it.”

            And there went my day.

            I could have gotten frustrated at all my day’s plans that now went awry. I might have panicked at the thought of all the responsibilities I was going to somehow have to deal with on top of this crisis. And I may well have lost my cool at the prospect of yet another hospital ordeal to be endured. But, I did none of these things. Because, attitude is everything. I knew that if I dealt with this emergency calmly, I would get through it fine. And besides, I had no time to panic; I was too busy picking up all my stuff from the front lawn.

            A mere two and a half hours later, after maneuvering around drivers with some serious attitude problems (why would anyone think that they should drive five miles slower than the speed limit anyway?), I arrived at the hospital. That’s not to say that I actually got into the hospital, I just arrived on the block where the hospital was located. First, I looked for a place to park. Then I looked for a place to double-park. I even looked for a handicapped spot to illegally park in. Thirty minutes later, I was no closer to getting inside than when I had first arrived. But, I had developed a better understanding of what gave the natives their tough New York Attitude.

            To make a long story short(er), I did arrive at Yossi’s bedside sometime before sundown. As I had suspected the hospital staff (not known for their great attitudes) had pretty much left him to fend for himself, and forgotten him. Being my cheerful old self, I did not let that bother me.

“Now, why get upset and nervous? “ I said to myself (I often talk to myself), “Laughter and tears will produce the same results (or lack thereof) so why not find the joy in this situation?”

And I promptly took out my large sack of emergency food rations, a new novel I had bought for the occasion, and settled down to relax.

“Mrs. Frank?” questioned a masculine voice.

With a sigh I put down my book and peered behind the stained and dirty drape that served as a barrier between Yossi, me, and the rest of the ward. What do you know, I had a visitor. Being the gracious hostess that I naturally am, I welcomed my guest behind Curtain #3 in the emergency room, and offered to share my sour sticks.

I should take a moment to explain that my guest had not come to visit for my benefit; he came because he is a good friend of Yossi’s. It is a continuous source of amazement to me that for a child who has no way of communicating, Yossi has a large and varied assortment of friends ranging in all different ages, sizes, shapes, and colors. This particular close pal of Yossi is a middle-aged man who makes the effort every single day to spend some time schmoozing with my son. A trivial little detail, like a hospital stay, was not about to deter him. (Actually he is another good example of how attitude is everything.)

            For a while we made small talk. A mere hour and a half later, three very very young medical students came staggering in weighed down beneath huge medical tomes.

            “We were wondering if you had a couple of minutes to go over some information,” lisped the one with braces.

            “Yes, and, like, we sure would, like really, like to know why you’re here, like,” sang out the one with the bobbing blonde ponytail.

            The third one stayed silent, mesmerized with at the sight of Yossi.

            “Why not?” I replied, “I’ve definitely got the time!”

            Out came a ten page questionnaire (and I am not exaggerating) that wanted to know all kinds of information, like the APGAR scores of my siblings and I, and what I thought of the President (I couldn’t care less). A less attitude conscious person than myself might have gotten perturbed with the sheer magnitude of the completely unnecessary nosiness found within the mini autobiography, but not I.

            “Laughing and crying will produce the same results,” I said to myself, “so why not just see the humor in this.”

            “Hunh???” questioned all three medical students at once.

            “Attitude is everything,” I answered them briskly.

            Out came their pens as they hastily scribbled these words of wisdom down into their voluminous notes.

            “Could you spell that please?” asked Ponytail.

            I was saved from having to respond by the arrival of an orderly.

“A bed has become available for the patient, it’s time to move him upstairs. He is being kept overnight for observation, you know,” he announced grandly.

“Actually, I didn’t. But, I’ll be glad to move to a bigger room,” I replied.

“Can I go with you, I still have some questions,” asked medical student #1.

“Like me too!” added medical student #2.

Medical student #3 didn’t take his eyes off Yossi. He just clamped his hand at the foot of the bed and held on tightly.

“You can all come along,” informed the orderly proudly, “Mrs. Frank you lead the way. Your husband (and here he gestured to Yossi’s friend) can bring your stuff.”

And off he went.

“We’re not married!” cried out Friend and I in unison.

The procession came to a complete halt as four wondering eyes looked around at us.

“He’s a friend,” I explained.

Four pairs of suspicious eyeballs swiveled from Friend to I as eyebrows rose in question.

“Of Yossi’s!” I added loudly.

“Whatever you say,” muttered the orderly.

“I must write that down,” muttered Medical student #1 scribbling furiously on the back of her hand.

“Like, OK!,” sang out Medical student #2.

“Let’s just go upstairs,” said Yossi’s friend.

Me? I just mumbled to myself. “Attitude. Positive attitude. Just find the humor in this situation.”

Medical student #3 was so impressed with that line that he took his eyes off Yossi long enough to smile in my direction. But, I was paying no attention. I was too busy repeating my mantra to myself to be sidetracked.

I mumbled these words as we waited in the hall for the public elevator that is used for both patients and visitors. I muttered the quote when all of us squeezed onto the overcrowded elevator and my foot got caught between the doors. I garbled the words when we arrived in Yossi’s room, and a nurse came in with another ten-page questionnaire to be filled out. And I said it clearly when, time and again, each new person we came in contact with assumed that Yossi’s friend and I were married. I kept looking for the joy in the situation as we both loudly assured them we were not.

But you know what? Eventually, I did find the humor in the situation. After enough mumbling and muttering, I even got others to see it as well. I knew I had accomplished something when the head of the department came to see me.

“So, you are the mother with the great attitude,” he began, “we’re all so impressed with how you are handling the situation.”

But by then I was paying no attention. I was tired. I was hungry. I had not had a chance to read my book. And, I was in a bad mood.

Attitude? What attitude?