The Good Samaritan / A.K.A. "Where's the hidden camera?"

You ever have one of those days when you think that the whole world is playing a practical joke on you? Well, I sure have. Today was just weird.

It all started this afternoon at my doctor's office. An average visit with thermometers and blood pressure gauges until the doctor hit me with the mother of all questions. Right there in between "how do you like your job?" and "do you need any prescriptions refilled?" she says to me:

"Have you ever sold your body for money or drugs?"

At first, I thought that she was offering me a new career. (I had once been caught by surprise attack at my dentist's office when he took me aside and asked me if I'd like to sell Amway for him so generally nothing surprises me anymore..)

I was taken aback for a moment. The questions were usually along the lines of "do you have a history of heart disease in your family?" or "How often do you exercise?"

But, no............ she asked me if I'd been selling my body for money or drugs.

I hope my hesitation didn't make her think that I was lying when I stammered, "Uh...no....er...not lately? My body?"

I wanted to tell her that I usually only trade my body for things like groceries and oil changes.

The day swerved to an even more uncomfortable stop when I decided that yes, today I would like to be a good citizen.

Nothing wrong with that. Do unto others and all that jazz.........

On my way home from the doctor's office, I passed by an elderly gentleman fighting with his trash can. It was one of those really large plastic ones that are used for recycling, about armpit high. He had the lid open and was leaned way down inside. His arms were inside and he was swatting from side to side with his cane. I figured, "Oh my goodness. He could use some help!"

I had seen him on another occasion walking to his mailbox at a slower than snail's pace and remember thinking how sad it must be when you reach a certain age and your body doesn't perform tasks easily anymore. I have a massive soft spot in my heart for the elderly.

When I saw him with that trash can, I immediately imagined me coming to his aid where afterwards he would thank me profusely, even take my hand and say, "Oh honey...you are just the sweetest thing." We would then strike up a conversation and become fast friends. From time to time, I'd stop by his house for lemonade, Little Debbie oatmeal pies and viewings of his old slides and home movies. Perhaps in the end, he'd have no heirs and would leave me a fortune in rare records and fine barkcloth fabrics. Win-win situation...........

But, back to the story. I turned my car around and parked on the side of the road. At this point, he had flipped the can over and it was out in the road. His cane lay beside it and he was now leaned way over precariously trying to get it righted. He was a tiny little man with back hunched over so that he almost resembled a question mark. He rocked the can back and forth trying to get it back upright.

I walked up to him and towering over him, said with a wide smile, "You need some help there?"

He grunted at me and then backed up from me and continued to struggle with the can.

I figured he was just being stubborn.

I reached for one side of the can and tried to lift it up but for some reason it seemed like the old gent was struggling against me. It was then that I realized through his frenzied gestures and sounds that he was both deaf and mute. The poor fella couldn't figure out what I wanted with him and his trash can. He was signing to me (I don't know sign language) and I was talking really loudly (because for some reason hearing people do that when they talk to someone who doesn't have the luxury of hearing).

We finally got it up right and he started pointing and grunting at a pile of decomposing sludgey something on the ground. For some reason, I immediately thought that he must want to put that pile of whatever into the can. I took stock of the situation and decided that whatever it was happened to be in a realm of "do not touch with hands" so I wandered off to try and find a couple of sticks to scoop it up with.

Before I get back to him, he was waving his arms and making lots of frustrated grunting noises at me. I tried to get the decomposed whatever up and into the can, all the time with him fighting to get the lid closed in front of me. So, here we are in the middle of the street - neither of us communicating - a pile of sludge and a garbage can. Stalemate. Him waving his cane and me with sticks. Neighbors no doubt watching and laughing from behind window sheers.

Thank heavens it finally hit me that he didn't want whatever it was in the can but he had been trying to get whatever it was out of the can. So, along comes me. Little Miss Charity - and I try to undo everything he had been struggling to do. In the end, I tried to take his can up to the top of his driveway but he only took it away from me and gave me a quick sign which I did recognize as "Thank you."

He turned away from me and began to push his can at a rate that must have equated into negative inertia. I walked back to my car faster than the speed of sound while feeling like a puppy with my tail between my legs, looking around to see if anyone had seen my failed attempts.

He really didn't need me and I only ended up feeling stupid and........well, I'm not really sure if I even did any good there. It was almost as bad as the time my mom and I made an elderly lady cry in a nursing home by getting confused and asking her when her husband would be there (he had been dead for years and no...wouldn't be coming).

That was the same day that I helped take a man in a wheel chair down to the cafeteria because he told me that he was supposed to be there. Turns out (according to the nurse who chastised me) that he was on a very strict diet and wasn't supposed to be within a hundred life-threatening yards of that cafeteria. A grain of salt could kill him.

So, yes.........All in all. I'm out changing lives. Making the world a better place. Beats selling my body for drugs and money, I guess. Keeps me off the streets, as they say.