Photos from trip to Doylestown Hospital

Ooops. That's my granddaughter Baby Grace. Overnite, she began sitting. When Sarah was a baby I used to think, Therein resides a supreme intelligence that knows exactly what to do w/o any coaching.

At four o'clock today I packed up my laptop and camera and went back to Authorized Camera Repair right next to the Giant Supermarket.

Matt, the young owner, took a few minutes to help out this beleaguered photographer who couldn't get her photos out of her camera and onto the computer.

Naturally it worked at his shop. I told him next time I stop by I'll bring him a loaf of homemade bread.

Nearing the hospital I saw this nice pattern in the roadrails. My motto is: If your eye lingers on something overly long, shoot it!

Lobby of Doylestown Hospital. Shall I tell the reader it required all my nerve to shoot this picture?

Excellent elevator signage.

Since I arrived 40 min's early for my appt, I asked the 'greeters' if there was anywhere interesting to walk. They directed me to The Art Walk where area artists can show their work for a three-month stretch. Great idea!

Huge crocheted American flag.

Altho all the paintings were very professional, I think this one is my favorite. Hey I'm gonna tell photographer Carl Yeager that this would be a great place to display his photos. In fact, I'm gonna steal one of his right now off Facebook and show you all.

"Redemption" by Carl Yeager. Sorry it came out so tiny. I've got one of his originals in my living room, a pink tulip.

Signage. Sorry, babe, you can't come in.

I liked this realistic portrait of a toothless older gent.

Auteur! Auteur! Okay, here he is.

Back upstairs we go for my 12:30 swearing in. Ceremony scheduled for 1 pm.

I sat in this room for 20 minutes waiting for a bed. I began reading A Passage to India, hoping to finish it, but then a couple women sat down and we began talking. We agreed we liked the open feel to the room and that you could overhear what went on in the next cubicle. If you wanted privacy, you just lowered your voice.

After my steroid shot for my sciatica, which is formally known as ridiculopathy, I think, I drove victoriously home, waving the American flag and rooting for Cairo to become a democracy. I turned around and shot the hospital, which had been remodeled last year.

The true test of pain, however, is when I lay in bed. The pain is 75 percent better. I'm so grateful I thanked the heavens many times.

I had the wide highways all to myself.

Legs at rest by Ruth Deming, after Mark Cohen at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.