fear · 09.10.22, 6:01am
fear is everywhere in these times. have you made a choice to risk and thought it brave—only to realize you may fear something else? what choice can be made without fear?
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If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment. – Marcus Aurelius
I have learned over the years that when one’s mind is made up, this diminishes fear; knowing what must be done does away with fear. -Rosa Parks
The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. – Anne Frank
♥tell me ♥
Dear Tiger · 09.10.18, 11:37am
I would first like to say how much I truly and dearly love you. I always wished that I could take you up to school with me and be with you every day, since I knew that you were aging while I was away. It was painful to go home every month and notice the changes in your physical health. The deep luster of your fur fading away, the droop of your head, and the steps of your paws becoming ever slower.
I made mom promise to call me immediately as soon as anything happened to you, because I HAD to be there with you in the end. But in the end, I failed you. I wasn’t there. I was freezing on a mountain in North Carolina, laughing in the snow, with no idea what was wrong. I missed the first phone call from Dad right before I lost signal completely for almost two days. I am so sorry. If I have one real regret, however lame it would sound for breaking a promise to a dog, it is not being able to be with you and say goodbye.
I have only myself to blame. It was so hard to get the onslaught of voicemail and text messages from the rest of the family, a day late, while I was walking through the streets in Asheville, trying and failing to hide my misery from everyone else.
“Tiger hasn’t eaten in two days”
“He keeps trying to hide. He might be dying.”
I think my heart has broken. While I am glad that you no longer have to suffer, and lose your pride in walking with your head tilting to the floor, without the energy to curl the plume of your beautiful chow tail, and without the control of your bowels—I am still so very sorry. I am sorry that I wasn’t there because I know you thought of me. You always got so excited when I came home, jumping around for a bit like a young puppy for a few minutes while you could. I am sorry that you had to suffer with half of your family away.
You are the best friend I have ever had. I still remember when sister and I chose you and Shadow from the litter. We had petty competitions—sister insisting that you were better than Shadow, and I insisting that Shadow was better than you—but in the end I will admit that you have the largest part of my heart. You were here with us longer, and always faithful.
You were so beautiful. Everyone who saw you always thought you were a girl dog because of it. Your coat was so shiny and slightly fluffy without making you puffy. The fur on your head was so especially soft, I always loved to pet you there—even though doing so was always perceived by you to be an invitation for a crazy licking-attack! You always wanted to lick us and show your affection, and we knew it—yelling “no lick!” when you went a bit too far, hehe.
You had such a graceful shape and pointed paws. Your eyes were so intelligent, I knew you understood everything! I remember before you somehow understood when we took pictures of you, so you would immediately sit down very straight and proud and look right at the camera! We never had to chase you around or put the camera on a special setting. “Beautiful dog!” People would exclaim. But dangerous. You were definitely a one-family dog back then. Many a time we had to pull the curious stranger away for fear of them being bit. Despite that, I always knew I was safe with you.
I remember how you used to sleep outside my patio door at night, and it was comforting to me as I was still afraid of the dark. I remember in 8th grade, after a jerk on the bus yelled, “Stupid bitch, go back to China!” at me—I ran through the yard crying to you and the other dogs. No one else was home, but I cried in front of you and you comforted me. You licked my tears away and everything felt okay right then. I remember how little Mimi was the only dog you ever liked other than Shadow—and you used to touch noses with her in passing. It was the sweetest thing.
I remember when we first moved into the big house in Country Estates, and you got so excited that you ran right through the patio screen, busting a huge hole in a panel that wasn’t fixed for a while. You learned your lesson, but it was so funny. I remember the morning when I was eating breakfast and a I noticed you barking, and looked over and up to see a squirrel, frozen while gripping to the roof of the patio with you standing guard below. I thought it had died, petrified with claws still woven through the screen. 10 minutes later, you were barking wildly while chasing the same squirrel through the patio…and it only got away by swimming through the pool! I didn’t even know squirrels could swim.
Even though we got three other dogs while you were still around, we always loved you best. At least I did. Everyone knew you were the boss. When Uno pissed you off one day, you grabbed him in your jaws like he was a puppy and shook him—throwing him away. Although I was worried for Uno, he wasn’t hurt at all—only his pride. You were always the top dog. That’s never changed.
You were so alert. We couldn’t open a string cheese, loaf of bread, or slice of cheese without you hearing us! It was amazing how you could hear it across all distances, and run right over begging for a treat. If we even opened the fridge door, we’d only have to glance over to see you watching us carefully. While sitting was the only trick you ever learned, you utilized it well. Plus you were amazing at catching food in your mouth—major skills.
Back when we used to have that huge yard, I still remember you, Cougar, and Uno waiting for me every day by the fence near the bus stop when I came home from school. Every day without fail, unless it was raining—I know how you hated thunder (the only times you ever hid). I hopped the fence right there every day, making a little droop from the times I brushed the top with my leg..and all of you would jump excitedly around me, bright eyed and tails wagging, running with me up to the patio where I always tried all the many doors to let myself into the house. I don’t know if anyone else in the family knew, but I hardly ever needed a key to enter the house! But again, I never worried about safety because of you.
Tiger, you were free-spirited. You relished that big yard we had, but even then that was never enough. We’ve all lost count of the many times you somehow escaped one yard or another, wandering the neighborhood and marking your territory at will. Even when you were neutered, nothing really changed. Once someone caught you wandering in and out of peoples yards, looking for ours, because all of those townhouses looked the same! You were never so happy as when we had that big yard though—and somehow now I regret every time we had to leash you and limit your space.
Oh, smart dog. Of course you lived such a long, healthy life. It was only in the last year or so that you began to show major signs of aging—and only age had the power to bring you down. When our neighbors threw poisoned rats into our yard because Mimi’s barking pissed them off—you knew better than to go near them. Mimi’s youth and curiosity was her downfall—but you barked to alert us, and you survived. I am so proud of you.
Beautiful, smart, Tiger, Tigger, I miss you more than I ever thought I would. I knew you were aging but I didn’t think about your death if I could. I thought it would jinx you. I always said, “Tiger will live forever,” and somewhere deep in my childish soul I believed it. I feel as though there is a big gaping hole in my heart that no one could ever fill. No dog, no other pet could ever replace you. To attempt it would be a dishonor. I will never forget you, my best friend since the age of 5 or 6. I grew up with you. I reached adulthood with you. You are as much a part of me as my brother or sister, but you’ve also seen parts of me that even they don’t know. In our rarely physically affectionate family, we showered our communal love on you like a favored child. You were more than a dog, or a pet. You ARE family.
Even though I will always miss you, and I know that I won’t heal for a long time, you will always be with us somehow. Right now, I can almost hear you beside me. If only I could give you another massage with my feet, and pretend to rest them on your back again. If only I could reach out and pat the soft, soft fur on your head. This time, I wouldn’t say “No lick.”
The next time I play my Chopin waltz, or that Haydn concerto you especially loved, I am sure I will hear the echo of your howling with the beat, matching my rhythm and pitch with your soulful off-key melody.
♥tell me ♥
peeves. · 09.10.06, 3:23pm
I try really hard to keep the kitchen clean. I know sometimes I leave things in the sink for more than a day or two and don’t always immediately clean up…but at the very least I throw out my junk and crap from chopping..
Who the hell cuts garlic and leaves all the papery trash on the counter for DAYS? Passing in and out of the kitchen over and over…knowing that they made that mess but never cleaning it?
And whoever keeps spilling shit and letting it stain and make the counter sticky is pissing me off.
♥tell me ♥
so unproductive. · 09.10.02, 11:22am
I hate how getting sick dampens my productivity levels. Granted the last couple weeks I had been skipping out on the gym in the mornings, except for like three days—but at least I was still waking up fairly early and getting a lot done. The only reason why I was skipping was because I had assignments due and I was catching up with friends in the evenings—thus staying up later and waking up too late for the gym anyways!
Since Fall is finally FEELING like Fall, the gym will be a more viable option in the mornings. Before, if I wanted to walk to the gym I wouldn’t do it if I woke up later than 7:30AM. Why? Because the mile long walk both ways would be REALLY HOT and after sweating in the gym, I really didn’t want to sweat on the way home too. Add that with the stench of pigs & cows on part of the way home due to our lovely location near the swine facility & cow fields, and it is a most unpleasant combination!
I am finally starting to feel better—no sore throat, and only a smidgen of the sniffles. Hopefully by Monday I can return to my grandma-esque early morning regime.
I miss my 6:30 wake-ups, I was so much more productive! I still get things done now, but being sick made me lazy because I was so lethargic. I ate out way too often this week too, because I was too tired to pack my lunch. AGH! All that budgeting wasted. At least I was way under budget before this so it sort of evens out. Not really, but I can lie to myself a little.
I was more cranky this week without the running. Well, maybe it was being sick in general, since I tend to react more negatively to my immune system failures than most. But endorphins make you happy—and I wasn’t getting any! I didn’t even get to play the daily carillon recital on Monday! I was in pretty craptastic condition and there was no way I was going to drag myself up the 11.5 flights and play! Luckily I emailed Dr. E and she played in my stead.
I’ve been taking good care of myself this week though. Letting myself be lazy. I guess it taught me a lesson because although I was being good about my early morning regimen, packing lunch, and etc—I did tend to stay up too late in the evenings and often would get only 6 hours of sleep. When I had friends and papers due, I got even less. I need to be more disciplined in getting rested, even while maintaining my strict schedule. I’m starting to volunteer at North Florida Rehab next week too, so that means my schedule will be even tighter—especially if I add the gym to it!
Next week my goal is to get back in the gym at least three days and return to packing my lunches! In addition, this weekend I need to catch up on reading for Culture & Medicine. This is going to be a hard-core reading weekend! [AND SKYDIVING!] Since my midterm is on Thursday next week! I also need to do all my other readings for every other class, and plan out farmers market visits so I can write a thorough paper for Food Politics. The next two weekends in October are going to be filled with SERCAAL, guests, and a hiking trip to North Carolina—so I can’t waste my time during the week. I won’t have weekends to make up for wasted time!
Perhaps I should resign myself to not watching Glee, Greys, Private Practice, or Modern Family for a week or two. Following these awesome shows definitely is a factor in my lack of discipline & productivity the last few weeks.
I can always catch up later, and they do take up many important late evenings hours. It would be hard to get all my reading and work done if I have to get to bed by 11:30pm, and watched TV from 9-11. x_x
October is an extremely important month, can’t eff it up!
♥tell me ♥
doctors and healing · 09.09.18, 12:51am
In my medical anthropology class today, my professor posed this question:
What qualities do you expect to find in a doctor of biomedicine (Western Medicine)?
Among the responses given were: smart, high socioeconomic status, medical school background, highly educated, tendency to prescribe pharmaceuticals…etc.
I was a bit disappointed that qualities of character and personality were not mentioned. What about compassionate? Kind?
I feel like biomedicine especially has such a tendency to break the body down into parts, is this perhaps it’s downfall? You have an endocrinologist to examine your thyroid gland and a ton of other specialists that for the most part, only care about that one aspect of your health. Shouldn’t it all be interconnected?
Instead we are referred to specialist after specialist, racking up medical bills everywhere because there’s something wrong with your skin/heart/lungs/thyroid and who knows what else. It’s like we’re a machine broken into parts for repairs. One critique made is that it is not holistic enough.
If a patient is not following their treatment plan—why is it only recorded as “noncompliance” when the reasons for their “noncompliance” may be caught in a web of mis-communication and translations gone awry, or other problems in their life that affect their ability to follow up or function like they usually do: like loss of a home, or financial crises—which could lead to depression or lack of self care?
But these problems are not the reason why I decided to blog today, or I should say this evening.
I am blogging because I am tired. While that is nothing new, I am also sad and worried and frustrated and even a little bit angry! None of these are rare or new emotions, and there are various factors that let me to feel this way. But after multiple encounters in my short life so far with physicians and specialists who treated me as though I was a fool, or told me I was imagining things when I actually had a legitimate condition, or narrowly assumed that I was pregnant or arthritic because they were too preoccupied or busy with something to think thoroughly about my health, or only spent 15 minutes with me and didn’t really listen to my questions, or insisted on unnecessary appointments just so they could make that extra bit of money—- and oh so much more….I am tired.
And I am exhausted further by seeing my mother go through the same. exact. shit. Not long after my dad went through the same. exact. shit.
Right now there is only waiting and hoping and praying that whatever is wrong, is nothing too serious. What would we do with our financial circumstances as they are, when even people with great income and what they thought was financial stability and quality health insurance—go broke from the medical bills? The bills alone are a disease. Growing and festering with every appointment, useful or not.
I can only hope right now that the lump in my mother’s thyroid is not cancer. I have no faith, no God to lean on, and I probably never will. I have my own ideas of spirituality, and while they do not fit into an institution or a prominent belief system, they are my own. I have my own way of praying, and since when is prayer limited to a conversation with a Christian/any other God?
I hope that every one of my friends and peers who seek to become doctors, become more than doctors. I hope they learn not to heal only the body, but the soul too. I hope they never lose their compassion, and I hope they never become cold. I hope they don’t become disillusioned or lose their faith. I hope they do what they do for right and honorable reasons.
♥tell me ♥