My patient is coming along nicely (she says with a Dr. Frankenstein wringing of the hands). It's a painful recovery, but Scott is doing quite well by my estimation.
"Knowledge is the only weapon we have left."
~Reign of Fire
The whole event has me once again reconsidering why I'm here and what I'm doing here. As the man so succinctly put it the other day, "You are so good at this. This is what you should be doing." And I do enjoy being a caregiver. I like making people feel better, or at least as good as possible. It's rewarding just to know that I've eased someone's day even a little. It really strikes a huge chord in me. And wouldn't that be a better expense of my life, rather than shuffling papers? I'm so undaunted by other people's physical "goo." John was always impressed with that, but as I explained it to him, it's just bodily stuff - what's to be squeamish about? Plus, my mentality is so well geared toward that kind of work, the whole compassion thing, the empathic thing, the need to please, the happy little homemaker that's always been a part of the internal infernal Barb. Yeah, it's a striking contrast to the wild gypsy, but I'm nothing if not a series perpendicular processes. I dunno, I dunno....
So, I've spent a couple of days caring for a man I care a lot about, wishing I could truly take away the pain ("Life IS pain, Princess!" ~Princess Bride), and, once again, contemplating my role here on earth. If I'm working so hard just to keep Birddog fed (no easy task in GW's new world), and the roof above, shouldn't the work itself at least have some intrinsic value beyond the necessary paycheck? Yes, methinks. Yes.