It’s becoming more difficult to fit updates into my daily routine. There just aren’t enough hours in the standard day to get everything accomplished.
Of note: someone from my company’s human resources department came out to my office last week. He wanted to know if I had any veterinary journals I could lend him that our company could advertise in. It appears that my company is hiring a veterinarian for another department. I pulled out a couple of journals and handed them to him. I then asked why it was that I wasn’t being considered for the job. “You’d be interested?” was the response. I replied honestly that I didn’t know, but I’d like to see a job description so I could find out if I was interested. He promised to get one right to me. He then disappeared, and I’ve seen neither him nor a job description since.
It doesn’t matter though. It’s petty stuff, and I’m of the state of mind that allows such nonsense to roll off my back and into the gutter where it belongs. Today I walked in the African rain. Today the water that fell from the sky onto my shoulders first rose to the sky far to the east, and close to the equator. Some of the molecules within these drops traversed the Senegal River. Hippopotami and crocodiles once swam within some of this water. There may be molecules from the clouds of the Sahara or the plains of Guinea. I may not be heading to Africa anytime soon, but some of Africa has cordially come to visit me.
Pity the visit wasn’t so cordial in Florida.
Guess this qualifies as philosophy under pressure. Work is severely stressful right now, and will be for another two weeks or so. I’m looking forward to getting past the 24th of this month, and wishing I had at least two more months to prepare at the same time. I’m just glad I planned on taking the 27th off months ago, before I even knew that the 24th was going to be any different from any other day. I’m going to need a three-day weekend after getting through this.
Someone noted the other day, in an admiring tone of voice, that I’d “cheated death”. It’s an odd turn of phrase, that. Have I cheated? First the heart condition, which should have killed me. Then the liver. Was that two cheats? I don’t believe in God, or destiny. I suppose I therefore shouldn’t anthropomorphise death, but there are times I can’t help it. Is Death, once cheated, out for vengeance? Have I ducked the bullet only to be struck by a ricochet when I least expect it? My chances for skin cancer, lymphoma, and other neoplasms are now increased far above the average person’s. I’m likely to develop diabetes because of the immunosuppression. A co-worker’s flu means I have to avoid them for weeks. I couldn’t even keep my turtle. There are nights I wonder exactly what I have traded for this extension on my lease on Earth.
A multiple choice question:
One year after your liver transplant you feel:
1. like nothing has changed.
2. like everything has changed.
3. like something has changed but you can’t quite figure out what.
4. like there’s got to be chocolate somewhere in this house and I’m going to go check the pantry again.
Tonight I pick door number 4,