Wednesday, February 15, 2017

My Problems are There, but They Could be Worse

A few things have happened in the last week that are worth noting for varying reasons:

Hopkins did go to the improv show. While I was in the bathroom, Stefan's father asked him if he was blind or just stupid, and further informed him that it was awful that he didn't seem to notice or care that I looked great that night. It kind of rolled right off of him, reinforcing what I kept telling my ex to no avail: I've been down this road so many times before that I know exactly how this ends, with a big fat 'not interested'. I'm that guy at the D&D game who has boobs. This hasn't changed in thirty years and it's never going to change.

A young woman I had quite literally known since her birth died of an overdose. She was working in my father's medical group as a physician's assistant, and my dad was her preceptor physician. She grew up down the street from us, and for many years, her father was our family's veterinarian; I remember her so clearly, as a child and a teen and a young woman. This SHOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED. Today I went home and looked at her lying in the casket and thought, "THIS IS BULLSHIT." You're not going to convince me otherwise. She was ten years my junior and I feel so angry and regretful that her life ended far too soon. The flowers were beautiful, by the way.

Lastly, a friend's husband died after a short but fraught battle with cancer. She is a woman of deep faith and I hope that it will sustain her through the coming difficulties. Their twin sons will graduate from high school this spring, and there is a younger son still at home. I haven't seen her in a hundred years; we reconnected through social media, so I've tried to keep up with her that way. She's one of the most truly decent people I've ever known in my life, so this has a tang of supreme unfairness to it. She had the life to which so many of us should aspire, and now she has lost her husband, who by all accounts was a nice guy. (It turns out that he was veterinarian for another friend's mother's ancient, late Boston Bull Terrier.)

Vet families have had a bad run lately, seems like.

The pastor of my home church has also relayed the information that a couple who have been integral to the congregation (and who are very special to me) are suffering. The husband has entered hospice care. What I'm not sure a great many people remember is that he has an M.Div. from the Presbyterian seminary, but chose not to seek a pulpit after completing it. I talked with him when I was in discernment and it was one of the things that showed me that I wasn't really cut out for the pastorate. While he is very quiet, I am rather strident. Neither is the right fit for ministry. He led the Session when I was called to be examined for my catechism. His wife, who for a long time was our pianist, would quietly pivot my toddler sister and send her back up the side aisle when she ran away from Mom during services.

So we wait, and I'll go home again. At least my class reunion is during Cow Days and maybe I can see some folks there instead of at the funeral home.

Recapping: Valentine's Day was a bust, although someone left a book and some candy in the mailbox at my house with a kind note. That helped. A lot. Really, it did. Hopkins was himself, per usual, and meh. Then the MMWR (Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report, for non-library folks) rolled out, with some nasty surprises. *sigh* Hiding under the bed's really not an option but it sounds GREAT.

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