Jun. 12th, 2003 09:20 am
It's raining morbidity
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muckefuckAround 11:30 last night, between engrossing yet harrowing developments in the film Once Were Warriors, I paused to ask myself the question:
What the hell am I doing up?
I thought I was tired enough to go right to sleep last night, but I was so keyed up that I was positively bouncy as Madness sang "Baggy Trousers" on So Graham Norton around 10:30. That couldn't have been just the ice cream Monshu and I were sharing. He went to bed and I continued watching t.v. (and playing solitaire, to give my hands something to do).
It took another hour for me to admit the obvious: I was worried about Nuphy. Part of my reluctance stems from the fact that it makes me feel silly. I mean, worry is just so stupid. There's nothing I can do, there's no prospect of more news until morning, so why not get a good night's sleep? But most people--including me--just aren't wired that way. Still, I had been doing such a good job of keeping it at bay! That is, until his daughter called yesterday morning sounding very upset. For me, seeing another's reaction to suffering is usually much more upsetting than the seeing suffering itself.
For instance, in the movie last night: One of the characters commits suicide. It's a disturbing scene, but I wasn't really upset by it until the mother appeared and began shrieking, crying, and shaking uncontrollably. Then I was fighting back tears. Or the time my sister's rabbit died. It wasn't a peaceful death. Jellybean went into spasms and all my sister could do was hold him while he expired. Through her tears, she vowed she wouldn't keep another pet until she knew enough to care for them when they became ill. (At the time, she was hoping to become a vet.) Up til then, I had been dry-eyed, but now, just thinking about her face as she spoke those words makes me tear up.
So yesterday, I went from feeling concerned but calm to shaken and anxious. As early as Monday, I had contemplated the fact that this could be the beginning of the end. The situation wasn't at all dire, but every hospitalisation carries risk, especially when you're over 60. At that point, it was a cool, almost idle speculation. Wednesday morning, when the news was less positive, the possibility became a little less theoretical and much more disturbing. The latest news (a message from the doctor last night that was relayed to me this morning) is upbeat, but too general to provide much comfort. After all, it came from the same physicians who were telling him a week ago that he'd be feeling much better in a couple of days. HA!
But I'd better accustom myself to all this. I've no illusions that this will be the last time the Old Man is hospitalised. Plus, my father, who's (keyn ahoreh!) healthy as a horse, was born the same year. Obviously, he's not getting any younger and that good fortune can't last forever. (Even Nuphy's father, who's in phenomenal shape for a man in his 80's, is recovering from a serious medical condition, as I belatedly discovered when I called him to tell him how his son is doing.) And Monshu isn't much younger than the two of them. The prospect of my boyfriend and one or both of my parents having serious health problems simultaneously is one I try not to think too much about.
What the hell am I doing up?
I thought I was tired enough to go right to sleep last night, but I was so keyed up that I was positively bouncy as Madness sang "Baggy Trousers" on So Graham Norton around 10:30. That couldn't have been just the ice cream Monshu and I were sharing. He went to bed and I continued watching t.v. (and playing solitaire, to give my hands something to do).
It took another hour for me to admit the obvious: I was worried about Nuphy. Part of my reluctance stems from the fact that it makes me feel silly. I mean, worry is just so stupid. There's nothing I can do, there's no prospect of more news until morning, so why not get a good night's sleep? But most people--including me--just aren't wired that way. Still, I had been doing such a good job of keeping it at bay! That is, until his daughter called yesterday morning sounding very upset. For me, seeing another's reaction to suffering is usually much more upsetting than the seeing suffering itself.
For instance, in the movie last night: One of the characters commits suicide. It's a disturbing scene, but I wasn't really upset by it until the mother appeared and began shrieking, crying, and shaking uncontrollably. Then I was fighting back tears. Or the time my sister's rabbit died. It wasn't a peaceful death. Jellybean went into spasms and all my sister could do was hold him while he expired. Through her tears, she vowed she wouldn't keep another pet until she knew enough to care for them when they became ill. (At the time, she was hoping to become a vet.) Up til then, I had been dry-eyed, but now, just thinking about her face as she spoke those words makes me tear up.
So yesterday, I went from feeling concerned but calm to shaken and anxious. As early as Monday, I had contemplated the fact that this could be the beginning of the end. The situation wasn't at all dire, but every hospitalisation carries risk, especially when you're over 60. At that point, it was a cool, almost idle speculation. Wednesday morning, when the news was less positive, the possibility became a little less theoretical and much more disturbing. The latest news (a message from the doctor last night that was relayed to me this morning) is upbeat, but too general to provide much comfort. After all, it came from the same physicians who were telling him a week ago that he'd be feeling much better in a couple of days. HA!
But I'd better accustom myself to all this. I've no illusions that this will be the last time the Old Man is hospitalised. Plus, my father, who's (keyn ahoreh!) healthy as a horse, was born the same year. Obviously, he's not getting any younger and that good fortune can't last forever. (Even Nuphy's father, who's in phenomenal shape for a man in his 80's, is recovering from a serious medical condition, as I belatedly discovered when I called him to tell him how his son is doing.) And Monshu isn't much younger than the two of them. The prospect of my boyfriend and one or both of my parents having serious health problems simultaneously is one I try not to think too much about.
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Life simply "is"
I walked for another hour among the flowers, and realized he was right. I have been unemployed for almost 18 months, and the prospects aren't the brightest. When I find myself cascading toward the depths, I remind myself of his words. You will loss those whom you love and will gain those who will love you. That is the nature of the Path. When they die, those whom we love continue to be immortal within us. They live in our dreams, our thoughts, and our memories. FWIW
Re: Life simply "is"
Re: Life simply "is"
Isn't that part of what "friendship is all about?
no subject
Re: Life simply "is"
Re: Life simply "is"
It was the Monk's wisdom that enlightened me. If I pass that wisdom on, then I am only the vehicle. The Monks wisdom was always infront of me....but sometimes, we are so "self involved" that we cannot see the forest for the trees....
Re: Life simply "is"
Re: Life simply "is"
Have a Great Day!