night

sometimes i wake up suddenly for no particular reason. and even though it's the middle of the night, and i have to get up early, and i reeeeeally want to be sleeping, it quickly becomes clear that it's just not going to happen. so i reluctantly leave my warm bed and the steady even breathing of my husband. show off.


i get up and pad around quietly. i always feel like i'm robbing my own house. like if i got caught i'd have some explaining to do. i lie down next to the warm little bodies i tucked in several hours before, and do a little re-tucking. i listen to them breathe. i feel their heads to be sure they're not cold. i tuck the hippo back up under the arm and turn up the heater a notch.


i remember a time when most of my friends were single and/or living fairly carefree lives and you could call at any hour. it wasn't unusual to make or receive calls in the middle of the night. now i sit and wonder who i could call. everyone i know has kids or works early or really wouldn't want to be woken up just to chat. and since when do i like to chat? i don't . i think it's just the acute sensation of being alone with myself. so rare these days. my instinct is to reach out. sometimes it's too scary to reach in.


i think. and wonder. and worry. and read. and stretch a little. and yawn. and read some more. and get some water. and wonder about all that worrying. and worry about all that wondering.


i'd love to have a drink. but my genes aren't to be trusted with such things. plus, i don't think 'drinking alone at 2am more' was one of my resolutions. or maybe it was - right behind start smoking and eat more lard.

witness

dear doctor,

for what it's worth, i saw it all. i saw the dread in your eyes, and your chest deflate when those labs popped up on the screen. i saw you squeeze your fists together and gently rest your head on them. then i saw you psych yourself up with a sip of your coffee and a deep breath.

i saw you wince at the hope and lightheartedness in the room when we walked in. i saw you greet them and eek out a smile. when you started talking, and he grabbed his wife's hand, i saw you pull on your collar with one finger tip, like someone had just cranked your tie tighter. i saw your foot, that ususally circles calmly while you talk, swinging sharply back and forth.

i watched you dig for the right words. when they didn't come, i saw you slide your chair closer, put your hand on his knee - and then hers. we all heard you say, 'we're not through fighting this". i saw them exhale for the first time - probably more from your hands than your words. i saw them sift through fear and devastation and gratitude for your care - leaving them with a morsel of hope to nourish them through this next phase.

i watched you leave and return to your desk. when i put my hand on your shoulder, i felt it sink and saw your chin fall to your chest for just a second.

then, like a prize fighter, i saw you roll your shoulders back, pull once more on your collar, pick up the phone and dictate your note.

one down, twelve to go.
it's going to be a long day.

for what it's worth, it's so important what you do. and you do it well.

thanks.
and peace.