Friday, January 10, 2003
It was freaky. In line for Starbucks this morning, I could have sworn I saw Bobby Olive. It's not possible, since Bobby died in October. This gentleman, slightly older, dischelved and balding, could have passed for Bobby's older brother, if he had any. I don't believe in ghosts, but it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I guess I was thinking very hard about this, because the next thing I knew, Dr. C. was next to me in line, telling me, "You must need something to wake you up. You look like you're in a daze." She asked me about weekend plans, and thanked me for some babysitter names. I'm not really used to it, the idea of physicians being nice to you, inquiring about your life in such a way that they seem interested. In psychiatry, the residents were nice enough, but the attendings (which is what I consider our docs to be the outpatient equilvalent of) almost never acknowledged your presence outside the hospital, and most of the time didn't acknowledge your presence inside the hospital, unless they wanted something you had. No one knew your name for at least 3 months. In oncology, the residents would change each month, which was a relief if you had a pain in the ass. But the friendly ones left too. And mostly, they left before they found out what your name was. Many of them didn't care anyway. But here, it's different. Nicer.
Tonight, a retreat at St. Bridgets for the Young Adults. Something about spiritual goal setting in the New Year. Something I definitely need. I find though, that I wrestle more with humanity than I do with God. My relationship with the Man Upstairs really is pretty good; at least I think so. He may beg to differ, though. I consider us on good terms. When it comes to my relationship with God, I think of a line from The Tao of Steve:
"People constantly turn to God mostly because they want something. No one says, 'Hi God. How are You? What can I do for You today?' " I consider myself more a "Hi God..." person than someone who constantly asks. Not that God really really relies on me, but...I always think it's nice to ask.
I guess I was thinking very hard about this, because the next thing I knew, Dr. C. was next to me in line, telling me, "You must need something to wake you up. You look like you're in a daze." She asked me about weekend plans, and thanked me for some babysitter names. I'm not really used to it, the idea of physicians being nice to you, inquiring about your life in such a way that they seem interested. In psychiatry, the residents were nice enough, but the attendings (which is what I consider our docs to be the outpatient equilvalent of) almost never acknowledged your presence outside the hospital, and most of the time didn't acknowledge your presence inside the hospital, unless they wanted something you had. No one knew your name for at least 3 months. In oncology, the residents would change each month, which was a relief if you had a pain in the ass. But the friendly ones left too. And mostly, they left before they found out what your name was. Many of them didn't care anyway. But here, it's different. Nicer.
Tonight, a retreat at St. Bridgets for the Young Adults. Something about spiritual goal setting in the New Year. Something I definitely need. I find though, that I wrestle more with humanity than I do with God. My relationship with the Man Upstairs really is pretty good; at least I think so. He may beg to differ, though. I consider us on good terms. When it comes to my relationship with God, I think of a line from The Tao of Steve:
"People constantly turn to God mostly because they want something. No one says, 'Hi God. How are You? What can I do for You today?' " I consider myself more a "Hi God..." person than someone who constantly asks. Not that God really really relies on me, but...I always think it's nice to ask.
