A small frame of time provided to sit and wait. A sketch pad would be helpful, but a berry will do to make notes. Today I left the safe bug-free womb like existence of home and am back out into the world - right into the doctors office where the only "art" is the female reproductive system in technicolour. Define "ironic".
However a doctors office does not exactly constitute a proper reentry into Sontag's kingdom of the well since everyone here is sick. I did get to short cut around the waiting room - the benefits of being a "frequent flyer." A small kindness.
What I noticed on the way - as I was driven to doctors by my hilariously funny friend Erin - another small kindness - lots of flashing lights and bad drivers and shiny faces. It is LOUD out there. It feels like I am stepping onto the set of Bladerunner, in comparison to my warm cocoon. These reminders of life which I generally don't see too much of between my normal ports of call - school yard, couch, princess margaret hospital- are sort of revelatory to me. I see it all freshly, and perhaps more warily (everything is germy). Flashes of "Sale" signs and glossy magazine-esque stores and people. Was everyone so glamorous-looking before? Has everyone always walked so fast? Did I try to keep up with that? Exhausting thinking about it, but prescient flashes of the life I will resume in short order. Somewhat frightening. Like re-entry into the atmosphere in a pod - will I burn up?
So doctor walks in and after pleasantries says - so what are you here for? Without missing a beat, Michael says " my wife has lost her hair."
She has the grace to ha ha - and after a brief exam- no fever, sore throat, hacking cough - diagnosis: I have a cold. No infections. This is great news. But the better news was the remedy, and why I love this doctor:
"Well if you're not vegetarian it's chicken soup." And once we had established I am allergic to most prescribed narcotics to assist sleep - she said " how do you feel about alcohol? Have some before bed."
You can't get better medical advice than that. She doubles my ativan dose and pooh poohs the snippy comments of the pharmacist - another small kindess. I need to sleep.
And I followed it. And I slept like a baby.
Kids return tonight for games night, chocolate fondue and [if we change the clocks ;0)] ringing in the new year.
Happy New Year, and I mean capital -H- happy. I wish a thousand small kindnesses bestowed on each of you in 2011, my lovely family and friends, as you bestowed them on me every day this past year. I am ever aware of the benevolent forces which pull / push me -and keep me in step with the world turning around me.