locacita

Crazy...normal.  Who makes the rules?  My patient this morning had one pressing request-cut my toenails, they're killing me.  He must have asked ten times. I didn't cut them.  I'm not sure they will get trimmed.  Maybe he'll express his anger tomorrow, not so crazy.  Perhaps I'm the crazy one to not feel more angry, to not be standing on a soapbox downtown prophesying about our blindness as a country, a society, an oppressive regime.

"People in other countries would be shocked that here we can pick up the phone & get in to see a specialist the same week, maybe later that day.  There they have to wait months, they're used to it".


"Tell me, what's you specialty?"

"I'm a neurosurgery resident"

"Ha.  Maybe if you're you you can pick up that phone.  For the other 90% that's not their experience". 

Crazy.

I'm the one judging, standing on slippery sand that gives way under my blood-red painted toes.  No visible blood on my hands, that'd be crazy.  And yet we all want  more while people don't have enough.  Is it so crazy to give it up, let go, re-evaluate what is really important?  So preciously little.  Sitting outside. legs crossed a warm wind animating my hair to tickle my ear.  A bird sings to the other one nearby and the water ripple in a green cup. 
Clayton.
"I like it here"
 "You should really get out of your comfort zone more mom, it's good for you".
"Not at my age"

Then WHEN?  When will it be the right age to give it up & let it go & why does some part of me cling so much?  I want to make things make sense, struggle, sit & be when they don't.  I want to be able to cut through the bullshit I tell myself, that people try to spin to make their lives livable.  Mostly I want to write something that matters.  Not to everyone, but maybe one or two who are paying attention.