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Apr. 27th, 2007

Man, it's Friday, finally. I didn't even work on Monday but this still felt like a long week. I guess camping really took a toll on me. I'm having a little Barry Manilow party this morning, thanks to Ami(thank you!) My patients probably think I'm crazy. We have some serious house cleaning to do this weekend, looks like a twister went through the house, or like children are living there. There's also a bunch of fun stuff going on this weekend and I'd like to check out at least some of it. There's the Petaluma Butter and Eggs Days(I know, lol) celebration, the Sebastopol Apple Blossom Festival and a chili cookoff at the Sonoma County fairgrounds. And some other stuff. I'm also on call this weekend, so that may determine if we do any of that other stuff.

There's been something I've been wanting to say, but I don't really know how to say it and I don't want to come off like an insensitive jerk but I'm just going to try to express it the best I can. Over the last year or so, it seems like more than a few of my friends' parents have been having medical problems, and a lot recently and some people have even lost parents. And sadly, I doubt there won't be more soon. And it sucks. Bad. I think that it's part of our generation's burden to bear, but even understanding that, it doesn't make it any easier to accept.

I really feel like, when my time comes, I won't fear death, but living with the knowledge that life is finite and certain to end is sometimes overwhelming when the concept is applied to loved ones. It makes me think a lot about my mom and dad, and even Shan. Even though my dad has been pretty healthy, he has had some weird medical stuff happen and my mom, well she hasn't been healthy in a long time. She's still trudging on, but she smokes and doesn't really eat well or exercise much(boy, sounds like me) and she's had some colds or flus that just go on and on forever. It's scary, and in a sense, it seems unfair, because I have this view of my parents as they were 20 years ago, when they seemed so vigorous. I get the same way with my kids I guess. My son will be graduating high school next year, but in my mind, he's still the kid I'm pushing around the room in an empty Pampers box. I guess a lot of that is compounded by the fact that I don't live near my parents or kids, but I don't think that's absolute. I mean, I think I would still feel the same way even if I lived with them. I want to be "zen" about things like this, and I want to moderate my emotions about it and it's not like it's constantly on my mind, but when it hits it's just painful, and I don't think I'll deal with it well when it happens to me. Anyway, I guess another reason I haven't written about this is because it's not really a complete thought, it's more of a question or dilemma in my head that will probably never be resolved, and so there's no closure or answer, ever, but I guess that's how life is. The great mystery.

I wish all my friends dealing with the sickness, pain or loss of loved ones strength, and love, and peace. And I also wish that you will not turn into a new age hippy, like me.

Heh, one of my patients saw me typing furiously away and said to my coworker, "Looks like he's blogging something!"


( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
Apr. 27th, 2007 05:50 pm (UTC)
It shocks me when I really look at my dad and realize that he has grey hair. I still think of it as black, though it hasn't been in years. My parents are still in their 50s and very healthy, but thinking about them becoming frail is too painful.

I was saying to Mark the other day that, for two people who are so into family, it's kind of funny that we don't want children. It's more than this, of course, but I wonder how much that has to do with satisfaction with the families we come from...and I worry about the day when they're no longer there.

Ugh, touchy feely...don't do that again!
Apr. 27th, 2007 05:55 pm (UTC)
Yeah, well said, "Thinking about it is painful", that's exactly what I mean.

Sorry, I'm sure my next post will be about getting drunk or farts or something. ;)
Apr. 27th, 2007 05:58 pm (UTC)
I think you're right about it being a generational thing. And about it being hard to get one's head around.

P.S. I forgive you for having a heart. Or something.
Apr. 27th, 2007 06:35 pm (UTC)
The thought of my parents dying scares the absolute shit out of me.
Apr. 27th, 2007 10:28 pm (UTC)
I used to be terrified of death. When I was a teenager I had panic attacks about it. I'd be in bed and I'd think "I'm going to die someday and there's nothing I can do about it." and next thing I'd know, I'd be in full panic mode.

Working around so many people dying has changed my perspective. I respect your scientific view of death being the end, but I've witnessed too many things which cannot be explained to believe there is nothing after.

Of course, I'm not here to change anyone's mind. It has helped me deal with not only my own death, but that of those I love. I'm not *sure* what is after death, but I do feel comforted that they're moving on to something bigger.

If that doesn't do it for ya, there's always this:

Yoda: Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force. Mourn them do not. Miss them do not. Attachment leads to jealousy. The shadow of greed that is.
Anakin: What must I do, Master Yoda?
Yoda: Train yourself to let go... of everything you fear to lose.
Apr. 27th, 2007 10:35 pm (UTC)
Re: Blogger!
Well, you can't really beat advice from Yoda.
Apr. 28th, 2007 01:32 am (UTC)
sorry. just realized this entry was not locked. comment had to go.
Apr. 28th, 2007 09:21 pm (UTC)
It is painful to think about it and hard to get your head around... but I had a conversation with my mom that I think about when I start feeling that way.

She's in her late 50's and we got into a bit of a morbid conversation one time and she was telling me about how weird it is to still have a mind that feels so young but a body that is beginning to give out. And the psychological impact it has knowing that you maybe have a good 10 active years left before you start having trouble getting around.

And then I have a grandfather who just turned 87. I can't even imagine what that must be like. How do you fathom an existence where your forseeable future could not be there? Phrases like "next Christmas" or "next year" begin to seem like a gamble of you being there?

Sometimes, I almost hope that I'll just go quick and painless in some freak accident before I ever get to that point. It'd be over before I ever knew what happened.
( 8 comments — Leave a comment )