“Dad was wrong. It’s true you might not get to control your funeral, but sometimes you do get to choose your death. And I can’t help thinking that part of Mom’s wish did come true. She went with Dad. But I won’t be playing at her funeral. It’s possible that her funeral will also be mine. There’s something comforting in that. To go down as a family. No one left behind.” Gayle Foreman-If I Stay (2009)
I have been busy all afternoon and evening; unrelenting pace of case after case. I have caught a minute or two of sitting against the wall in the surgeon’s lounge, on the floor with my legs propped against the cold wall. I need the stretch in my hamstrings, tight from all of the running of late. I just want to head up to the roof and fly as high as possible in the cold evening air but the sirens are blaring; patient after patient comes in.
It’s been a week of darkness and deep emotions for me. I try to find some breathing space; something to hold onto as I keep moving at this frenetic pace. I thrive on the pace but I don’t thrive on this darkness. I am looking for something; some peace but my mind keeps pulling me back into these depths. I almost wish that I could find a way to turn off these feelings and feel nothing; just to feel nothing; to think of nothing.
I have to get this right. If I don’t solve this and control this, I won’t be able to move forward. I know where I left my passion. I ran the steps up to the roof; to pray and meditate in the cold darkness. I am dancing as fast as I can; my passion is here. I have been here all of your life.