Question: Who is Hu?
Dang it!
Hu Jing Tao of China just got bitch-slapped by Foreign Policy to be the 10th worst dictator in the world, somewhere between Ahmadinejad of Iran and Qaddafi of Libya. Really? Really! Really?! "A chameleon despot," at least it is a colorful imagery. This bugs me a lot. It's time like this I wish I could talk to my ex. I don't see Putin on the list anywhere. What about the Pope?
Question: a life less ordinary?
Revelations have come in bunches lately. I was lamenting to my friend about my recent "discovery"/fixation of my own mortality, really for the first time in my life. It is difficult to parse apart whether my depressed mood precipitated this discovery or the preoccupation darkened the mood. "Am I too young to be thinking about my mortality?" I wondered out loud. My friend, a world traveler first, a comedian second and a perpetual bachelor third, surprised me with his answer, "I have been aware of mine since I was 19!" Coming from someone who works just enough to support his traveling addiction, it was a shock. My thoughts about the fragility of life has brought my focus back onto my career, family and ultimately old age and retirement. On the other hand, "time has been stalking" my friend since he was 19, and his response has been to experience life outside the mundane (school/work) and all the diversity the world has to offer. "You can work until you die, but how much would you pay, when you are old and weak, to enjoy life like you could when you are young?" I have in the past reflexively (but secretly) sneered at people who seem to follow their hearts and dive into the side streets of life with every impulse. I saw them as undisciplined and unfocused. Yet I have seen with my own eyes the colorful lives and impressive accomplishments that some of my best friends have achieved with this seemingly nomadic life style (yes including "the one that got away"). My conversation with my travel bug friend simply crystallized the idea of
carpe diem. Funny how I have always thought myself as been mature beyond my years and controlling my own destiny while life has passed me by. I don't have to travel to Antarctica or swim with the Great Whites to be less ordinary. But some changes are in order.
Dream
Life has been pretty busy lately. Q2 calls in the ICU, gym, archery lessons and studying take up most of my time. I'm never sure what works the best, maintaining an absolute focus (pulling the bow) or finding mindless distraction (drinking over the NBA finals). I shot outdoor for the first time, and absolutely loved it. Summer in SF doesn't have to be miserable--I actually got sun burnt after my lession in the GG Park. I can't wait to buy my own bow now, though I have a feeling that all these free time and energy will be exhausted soon when I start my cardiac rotation. A "funny" thing happened last night, the first night I had a good 8 hours of sleep in a while. I dreamt about her. I play the "Fresh Air" podcasts from NPR before my sleep every night, just to keep my mind off the pain. It will a long road. At least it's been 7 days since we last talked.
Question: can a guy be best friend with a woman who is not his girlfriend?
Answer: No.
It may seem obvious, but not so when it happens to yourself.
After talking to one of my best friends from medical school (a guy), the implication is obvious. Staying "best friend" with your ex is asking for disaster. It is not fair to the boyfriend/fiance/husband of your former-girlfriend/best friend. It will inevitably play mind tricks on yourself. Yes, it feels good and requires little effort to share your inner most thoughts with someone who you had cared about and who cared about you, but it is an illusion and dependence that need to be severed.
It is ironic. I always ended all communication with my previous ex'es. On the other hand, he had always remained on speaking terms with his, until "the one." It is all fine and dandy until you break up with "the one." Apparently, remaining friends only prolongs the suffering, according to him.
Intellectually this makes perfect sense, but emotionally, that intimate connection with someone is difficult to give up. Alas, in order to move on, it has be done.
Perhaps one day we will be friends again, sharing the ups and downs, the laughters and tears of life. In the mean time, I wish you the best of luck and my deepest gratitude for those beautiful memories of past.
Waiting game
It is going to be a rough day. Three hours of mindless waiting. College graduation ceremony. Why do we make our family and ourselves go through this over and over. I am going to go nut here.
Moments. . .
Laughing and sharing stories with friends over wine.
Rounding the ICU with one of the gods of ___________.
Sweating over an impossible a-line in a 80 year old atherosclerotic lady.
Straining to pull a 36 pound bow over and over without dropping my elbow.
These are the moments that the memories of the past and the REGRET leave me, replace by the joy of camaraderie, the excitement of discovery, and the intensity of 100% focus and utter exhaustion.
Yet, life is not made up of only such moments. The darkness still creeps in from time to time, usually in the dead of night. I am alone, faced with my own conscience, old memories, and crippling self doubt. But I like to remind myself one more moment--as I step out of the hospital after a hard call, suddenly and momentarily paralyzed by the rarest of phenomenom in SF, a sunny day. Beyond the park, the towers of Golden Gate Bridge are poking over the perpetual clouds to the north. With a some imagination, the streets of the Sunset district give away to the rolling waves of Ocean Beach to the west. The world is new again and everything seems possible if only I am brave enough.
24 months
My last post was more than 24 months ago. It is not really that long. But everything has changed. 24 months ago, my whole life was ahead of me. Hopeful yet scared, San Francisco and residency were still a beautiful mystery to me. A decade in the Midwest were nearly behind me, and there are at least three more years of residency in front of me. Who knows where I will be and what I will doing after that? Who cares. I have long stopped counting the changing of seasons and the birthdays. Future is full of unknowns, but I believed that I had the time to figure it all out. Then there were other things in my personal life that I took for granted, which weren't perfect, but I believed that they will work out eventually.
2 years later. The residency and the field that I have chosen is no longer a mystery. I love my job and believe that I have found my calling. But suddenly, I feel like I'm running out of time. For so long, time seemed to have no effect on my life. 10 years had passed, the world turned up-side down, but I seem to stand still, only changing my zip code once. Now suddenly, in a matter of a few months, the one person that I took granted in my life has slipped away. Just at the moment when everything that I have worked for since entering college has finally come together, I suddenly have a giant void in my life that I couldn't fill. What is this feeling? Anger? Regret? Self-pity? I feel powerless of course, but also fear. Suddenly, time is my enemy. Everywhere I look I see its devious plan. I can no longer see the 90 year man who had a massive stroke finally put on comfort care and feel relieved that his suffering is near the end. I'm watching his daughters spending every minute at his side, wiping away secretions, holding his hand and whispering in his ear. I'm watching his wife, who has dementia, visiting him and having a smile on her face. I'm watching three generations of family huddled in the room. I'm tearing up. All I can think about are my own parents and how short life can be. Am I fearful for my aging parents? Am I jealous of the man's family? Is it the lack of meaning in my own life? Score one for Erikson's generativity vs. stagnation crisis, I guess I just got "punked" by middle age.
Losing perhaps the love of one's life is causing me some grief. Looking at the famous 5 stages of grief, it's mostly depression right now with a few pathetic stabs at acceptance, "I should be happy for her," "I will find someone again." Writing things down appear to help somewhat. Although this may strike people as cold or awkward, the habit apparently runs in the family.
Rumblings from a middle age man
