I need a little writing therapy tonight. I've been a little too wrapped up in my own life lately. This week hit me like a ton of bricks.
A woman at my work passed away yesterday. We found out she was on life support on Monday. She went in for foot surgery and ended up brain dead. Rumor has it she had a stroke. During or after surgery is debated. But she was in her 50s and had been with the company for 6 years. I didn't know her very well but this is one of those moments that makes all the crap we complain about at the office rather meaningless.
Fiona has been sick all week. We took her to see her pediatrician this morning and the poor kid has the flu. Fevers, body aches, vomit, the runs - she has it all. So on top of the antibiotics she's still taking for an ear infection, we have to shove Tamiflu, Advil, and Tylenol down her throat so she isn't a 4 year old lump of sadness on the couch. The Tamiflu came to us in adult doses as free samples so we have to mix half a capsule into a spoonful of yogurt to administer it. Reminds me of coating a pill in peanut buttter and rolling it up in a slice of salami for the dog.
As we got out of the car at the pediatrician's office this morning a staff member told us to stay in the car as there had been a bomb threat at the office. We watched from across the street as fire fighters and policemen arrived and cleared the building. They suspect a parent of a patient from yesterday called in the threat. Apparently he called on his cell phone so the cops had a good lead and were off to arrest some kid's dad for a federal offense.
I watched an episode of No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain on Monday. The Haiti episode. Then I did a little reading on the world's population, courtesy of National Geographic. I float through life on a cloud. I have health care. I have a roof over my head. I have two cars. I have a savings account. I don't have neighbors with cholera. I don't have to clean up rubble, debris, and trash so a truck bringing clean water can get down the street. I don't have to sleep in a tent that leaks when it rains.
I know I can't bring Gina back or stop people from doing stupid things or rebuild Haiti, but I can pop this bubble of over-stimulated, hyper-marketed, foolishly selfish existence and remember what is truly important to me, what I am grateful for, what lessons I've learned and forgotten, the kind of person I am, and the kind of example I want to set.
Persepctive didn't hide in a spoonful of vanilla yogurt or roll itself up in lunchmeat. It hit hard this week. I needed it. And I need to make some changes.