I had to go to the hospital this morning for a procedure (Nothing serious. Just a follow-up.). I've been there once before since the world changed in March but it was obviously different today. Masks are mandatory, of course, and there was no problem at all finding parking in the parkade which is normally full. No one is allowed to accompany patients to the imaging area so waiting rooms are mostly empty and signage indicates appropriate social distancing.
Monday, November 16, 2020
I Don't Understand
I arrived early and spent a pleasant half-hour or so immersed in a new book on my Kindle while I waited. Not an altogether unpleasant way to pass the time. Of Literature and Lattes by Katherine Reay. I can already tell I'm going to enjoy this one.
The young woman who performed the procedure was new and accompanied by a senior person. It was interesting to listen to them talk back and forth about things I have absolutely no knowledge of and I couldn't help reflect upon the fact that once, not so very long ago, I engaged in technical work-related conversation that would have sounded like a foreign language to casual listeners too.
It highlighted for me, again, that I'm in a different season of life—one rich with new things but also of letting go. I don't suppose you can have one without the other.
Once in a while, I dream about being at work and remember the feeling of competency I had in my career. These days I feel tossed to and fro like there's far more that I don't know than I do. Perhaps we all feel like that to some extent in these times.
Today, I'd just be happy if I could understand what my little puppy, Murphy, is thinking and why he's being so stubborn about getting in the game with potty training. Three cheers for belly bands.
P.S. It appears there are some glitches in Blogger functionality which is preventing me from tidying things up around here the way I want them to be. Sigh. All in good time. All in good time.