Last night I wrote a bit about death. Things were fine then. It was all so abstract and remote.
Then this morning at about 7:30 AM Suzy stepped into the shower and stepped out in excruciating pain. She hadn’t pulled a muscle or twisted. Something random had happened. And we spent the whole day in the critical care unit at the Ottawa General Hospital. For a while there this morning we were talking with doctors about colon cancer, heart attack, pulmonary embolism.
We’re still not sure what it was. By this time tomorrow we’ll know if it’s shingles or a pinched nerve.
Tonight I’m thinking: Maybe I should stop saying I’m ready to look death in the face. Or maybe I should staple my eyes open and yell Bring It On.
Why? Because I was two places today where I felt I needed to wash my hands a lot: The hospital, and a political fundraiser.
Maybe I’m not cut out for this new life I’ve created for myself, but I’d rather spend time with people who are dealing with reality than those who are trying to spin it.
I got home tonight to find Jasper (9) watching the knock-out Canada-Norway hockey match on TV. I looked at him as I loosened my tie (I only wear ties to political events). He was totally engrossed in the game.
“Jasper, would you mind if we had to live in the one-room cabin in PEI?” I asked.
“Nope. That would be great, Dad.”
He didn’t even look up.
One room. Family. Treehouse. That’s fine.
He’s nine. He won’t even remember this day. My angst. My effort to take us to the next level. This level’s fine. And our fall-back is my favorite place on Earth. So I got nuthin’ to worry about.
Bring it on.
