Rosebush a gift from Daisy and Carmen, about 2009
Friday, November 11, 2016
Thursday, November 10, 2016
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
Wednesday, November 2, 2016
The O.T. or How would you answer the question. Update 7-10-2020
Granted, I don't think I've ever encountered an Occupational Therapist before, and definitely not in a professional capacity. Plenty of Physical Therapists though, and I'm aware there is a distinction between the services they provide. Even so, I was not expecting the question the therapist posed, nor was I prepared for the answer it evoked.
Addressing the patient, he asked, "What would you consider a good day?" Almost without hesitation, the response was, "Yesterday my daughter and her 2 boys picked me up and we drove over to a fish fry place for lunch, and then we stopped at my brother's house. She and the kids helped me up the steps and I sat and enjoyed a talk with him for a while."
I don't know why this seemed so significant at the time, or why it still does, or for that matter why I'm writing this through tears, maybe effects of the CMA. I asked an old friend this question tonight and she replied, "To be in Paris without fear of terrorists."
I contemplate how I would answer this question. The odds of my ever being asked are infinitesimal, not being likely to ever receive this type of therapy and even less likely that any other therapist would ask that question. Still my mind attempts an answer: Is the good day one that's already passed, or one that's yet to come, is the day to be one that may be possible, or is it a day of fantasy and dreams. My mind is essentially empty now, blocked by the unwanted answer to an impossible question, and struggles to leap over that chasm to an answer, any answer. For now, the two choices are the same: the reality scenario is just as much a fantasy as the other. I decide my idea of a good day would to be able to decide how to answer, and to pretend there was the possibility that one could happen.
Addressing the patient, he asked, "What would you consider a good day?" Almost without hesitation, the response was, "Yesterday my daughter and her 2 boys picked me up and we drove over to a fish fry place for lunch, and then we stopped at my brother's house. She and the kids helped me up the steps and I sat and enjoyed a talk with him for a while."
I don't know why this seemed so significant at the time, or why it still does, or for that matter why I'm writing this through tears, maybe effects of the CMA. I asked an old friend this question tonight and she replied, "To be in Paris without fear of terrorists."
I contemplate how I would answer this question. The odds of my ever being asked are infinitesimal, not being likely to ever receive this type of therapy and even less likely that any other therapist would ask that question. Still my mind attempts an answer: Is the good day one that's already passed, or one that's yet to come, is the day to be one that may be possible, or is it a day of fantasy and dreams. My mind is essentially empty now, blocked by the unwanted answer to an impossible question, and struggles to leap over that chasm to an answer, any answer. For now, the two choices are the same: the reality scenario is just as much a fantasy as the other. I decide my idea of a good day would to be able to decide how to answer, and to pretend there was the possibility that one could happen.
When to Call It Quits
I don't have enough Kleenex in the house to watch much more of the Country Music Awards, So I thought I'd turn to my faithful old blog, but I'm afraid the mood has been set.
During the course of my lifetime, I've heard many people speculate about at what point they would no longer wish to live. A child I once worked with said he could not imagine a life without Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and I recall Barbara Walters responding to that very question by answering that it would be when her friends were all gone.
Offerings of a variety of other reasons why life would not be worth living could fill a lot of pages: I've heard many, and if I were to comment on their validity, could say that over the years, people do change their minds. The majority of people in their twenties probably look upon a life without sexual fulfillment as a life unlived, but as time exacts its inevitable toll, that deprivation becomes---meh. Suicides excepted, of the too many deathbeds I've been next to, the person struggles for every last breath of life, regardless of what they might have once thought they couldn't have lived without.
The thought occurred to me today as I sat in an office, waiting. I can do a crossword puzzle while I wait, or a Word Jumble, but I think if I ever reach the point where I carry a little book of Word Search puzzles, the time has come.
During the course of my lifetime, I've heard many people speculate about at what point they would no longer wish to live. A child I once worked with said he could not imagine a life without Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and I recall Barbara Walters responding to that very question by answering that it would be when her friends were all gone.
Offerings of a variety of other reasons why life would not be worth living could fill a lot of pages: I've heard many, and if I were to comment on their validity, could say that over the years, people do change their minds. The majority of people in their twenties probably look upon a life without sexual fulfillment as a life unlived, but as time exacts its inevitable toll, that deprivation becomes---meh. Suicides excepted, of the too many deathbeds I've been next to, the person struggles for every last breath of life, regardless of what they might have once thought they couldn't have lived without.
The thought occurred to me today as I sat in an office, waiting. I can do a crossword puzzle while I wait, or a Word Jumble, but I think if I ever reach the point where I carry a little book of Word Search puzzles, the time has come.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)