The Age of Reason. And Kindness. And Flexibility. And Empathy.

Written November of 2017.

I've been putting off writing about Brock for a while. Two years almost. I cannot figure out how to put into words these huge, intangible ways in which he has changed. Matured. Progressed. Developed. There is just something about that first born. That pioneer of your child-rearing career. That kid you brought home from the hospital and thought, "what the #$%k did we just do?" You are simultaneously proud of your little, walking miracle and yourself for every milestone, phase, grade, achievement, accomplishment.  You remain in complete awe of the capabilities this little person you are trying your best to mold and guide to be the best human they can be possesses, yet never stop seeing more potential. You look back on the difficult times, the things you thought might never change, and would always be a struggle, and realize, somewhere along the line, we figured it out.

Brock was born with so much energy, curiosity, willfulness and anxiety that I frequently told people that I believed had he been born to a less energetic, curious, willful and restless mother, they might not have found his antics so lovable, but rather, insanely frustrating. There were moments over the years that I worried about his ability to pay attention, sit still and focus in the classroom. I worried that his anxiety and obsessive/compulsive-type nature would hold him back from trying new things, making new friends, finishing his school work and a multitude of other things. I worried he may need medications or therapy.

Brock has so many little quirks, and it's hard sometime to know how others perceive them. Are they socially acceptable? Are they a problem or simply an annoyance? Will his persistence cause issues. Will he be bull-headed, stubborn and arrogant or learn to accept that others think and act differenly, and that's ok. Though as much as I want all of my children to be successful, liked, and well-adjusted, mostly I just want them to be happy. So, I, along with all of our family, tried so hard to guide and teach him along the way. Help him to react to changes of plans in a constructive way. How to deal with disappointment and how to learn from it. How to be kind to others no matter what they say or do to you. But how to still follow your heart. How to do what you love. How to be YOU.

Parenting is such hard work. You second guess your discipline. Your guidance. Your actions. Your words. Am I strict enough? Am I too strict? Do they know I love them and think they're hilarious, but that I have to correct them and quiet them in certain environments.

It's as if age 8 is the year that Matt and I (and our village) got to see all of our hard work come to fruition.

When we went on a walk along Brush creek. He saw the homeless man, and saw his stuff and immediately felt bad. You could see he wanted to do something for him. He kept repeating that "he felt bad he had no place to live." Empathy.

A teacher witness, that when he spontaneously & wildly kicked a ball at recess that landed right on a girl's head - he ran immediately to make sure she was ok. Instead of turning the other way, trying to ignore what just happened, like many do. Responsibility & Accountability.

He was awarded the Flexibility Virtue of the month. This is something we worked on with Brock, TIRELESSLY. He absolutely prefers to think in absolutes. 

He is so kind. I have to hold back tears when I write those words, because his kindness is simply so genuine and overwhelming. You cannot help but love Brock because there isn't a mean bone in that body. Maybe it was the slightly hippy-infused upbringing I experienced vicariously transposed, but Brock is very much a "live and let live" kind of guy. He has learned how to keep his anxiety and fears mostly to himself, while perhaps cautioning others just a bit.

Brock has almost no temper to speak of. What he lacks in actual line-waiting-type patience, he makes up for, by leaps and bounds, in patience of his fellow human's nature.

Though, we've known from an early age, Brock is a bright kiddo, with probably a pretty steller IQ, I am coming to realize that I believe his Emotional Intelligence (EQ) might be off the charts. Amazing how far he has come from the days that we wondered if he might be a socio-path.

*insert "restless" story*

My sister had 7 kids at the zoo one day. Brock being the oldest (at age 8). The kids were bizarrely lingering quite long at the exhibit of a creek with ducks in it. I mean - this is the ZOO!! Ducks you can often see on your very own street corner! Kids are weird. Anywho, one of the 2 year olds finally became agitated enough to start squirming about in the stroller. So, Leah, said, "Let's move on kiddos, Walter is getting restless."

Hours or days later - I can't remember at this point. Brock was having a conversation with Leah in which he was describing himself. He says to her, "What was that word? It wasn't anxious? It wasn't annoyed? It wasn't tired? It's that thing, you know, when you move a lot, and can't sit still or stop? You know, you called Walter it at the zoo?" And she pondered for a bit and said, "restless?"  And he lights up, "Yes! Restless. That's what I am. That's me."

Again, simply an example of his lifelong desire to be accurate and precise, as well as well spoken, and extremely insightful.

Perspective - A Patient Encounter

When I first met her, I perceived she was nervous. I could sense the doctor skepticism. She simply had a negative aura about her. An Eeyore, if you will. A "no" person. A drag.

To my absolute non-surprise, she declined all screenings that a woman of her age is recommended to get. No labs. No pap. No mammogram. No flu shot.

I wondered why she had even come to the doctor.

I think she wondered that too.

I proceeded with the appointment in my usual manner. Attempting to keep the encounter warm, inviting, welcoming. Explaining, lightly and with a smile, all the reasons why these things are recommendations. What they are testing for, protecting us against, how tons of studies and science have deemed the benefits to far outweigh the risks. Ultimately, though, I always finish in earnest that I'm not here to force anyone to do anything. I am a steward of health, shall you choose to take my advice. Or not. I am obliged to educate. I take no offense.

Almost to the exact date, she arrived in my office, again, 1 year later. Same air of anxiety. Same negative aura. Her hair grey, her eyes grey, and even her skin a slight grey tone. As it was the year prior. To my surprise, she accepted the lab testing. She still refused the flu shot and the pap. She wavered on the Mammogram.

This time, she came forth with some extra tidbits. "The last time I had a mammogram, it turned into a whole ordeal. Another imaging test, a biopsy, and a lot of medical bills all for nothing."

I couldn't argue with that, except to say, we know that now, and won't retest the same spot, but it's still highly recommended. She said she'd think about it.

I considered that a win.

5 months later. Results of a mammogram came across my desk. She had gone, and it was abnormal. She had lymph nodes, that on report, didn't look great. My MA called her. She refused US for further imaging. She was sure this would result in all the bills and the same result.

I called her. I suggested she come in for me to examine. She obliged.

After I examine a patient, when I am trying to reassure them about lumps or bumps or all the things that Dr. Google has informed them is likely cancer, I say, "Trust me. I've felt cancer. More than I'd like to admit, and it gives me an immediate visceral reaction. I feel sick to my stomach." Cancer looks and feels completely unnatural. Inorganic. Wrong. "I didn't get that feeling. It's fine. We can just watch it."

When I felt the lump in her armpit. I couldn't say any of that. I felt sick.

After some gentle explaining, she still refused a biopsy, but was ok with an US.

The US confirmed our (the radiologists, mine, the patient's - despite her denial) suspicions. She agreed to a biopsy.

It came back invasive, stage 3, breast cancer.

I did what I do for anyone in this situation. I set up all their appointments. I get them in within days to see an oncologist. With in a week of diagnosis they have a plan and have maybe already started treatments. I call them. A lot.

"Are you ok? Who is your support system? Do you need help getting to your appointments?"

Yes. My cats. No, I'm fine.

She had no one. This home-body, single woman. Loner. Eeyore. As one might expect, had no one. Her parents dead. No siblings. No kids. I was stunned and stressed for her.

I reached out to people to find her a partner, or a group, some sort of support. But she quietly went on her way, through therapy. On her own.

I watched from afar. Via electronic medical record notes. She, as all my cancer patients do, abandoned my office for her new medical home. The oncologist, the infusion center, the lab, the imaging center. I don't need to add to her appointments.

I thought of her often. Seems to me cancer needs to be surrounded by strength, and warmth, and love to be destroyed. I worried her cats weren't enough.

Nine months later, she lands on my schedule.

I wondered why.

I quietly, and admittedly, nervously, knocked on the door as I stepped in to find a bright woman in a warm brown wig. With these shining blue eyes. A smile.

I hoped she didn't notice my second take and look of shock.

I smiled, I shook her hand, I remarked, "you look great! Tolerating treatment ok?"

She smiles and proudly says, "Why yes. I even started rowing while on Adriamycin!" (Notoriously an Awful chemo drug). She goes on to describe how well she's tolerated all treatments. That things are going well, she just has two more doses of her current med, and radiation is still an option.

We make eye contact the entire visit. I am just blown away. In front of my face, I'm seeing that a stage 3, dire and life-changing cancer diagnosis, has actually brought someone to life. She completely transformed. Her aura and energy bright and light.

"Doctor, thank you for calling me that day. Thank you for explaining to me that sometimes things in life are hard. Are too hard, in fact, to do them alone. That it's ok to find help, and that there are people out there who want to help. After this diagnosis, I realized how miserable the last 10 years of my life have been. How much I needed to change my job. I wrote down my regrets and realized I didn't want to keep them anymore. I am going to cancer support groups. I've made a friend. I'm sleeping better. I hope to one day help people in my same condition. Is it weird to say that this diagnosis helped awaken me to a better life?"

A normal person probably might have cried at that moment. I nearly did. Instead, I smiled, and said, that's not weird to say at all. Cancer provided you your silver lining...to life!

I hugged her, said, keep up the good work. And we parted ways.

I'll see her again.

Why?

 "And, there's nothing you wouldn't want to change on your body?" She asks incredulously. 

As if someone being perfectly comfortable with their physique is not a real thing. And by "She" I mean all of them. The collective she. Probably the "hes" too. Is anyone truly happy with their body and all the things that lie within? Where is the separation of physical - emotional - mental - spiritual? Is there a line?

I'm always met with such skepticism. Disbelief. I am hiding something. I am in denial. I am not being authentic or truthful with either you or myself. So much so, that I often wonder if she isn't right? Am I unhappy with a body part? Am I ignoring some inside itch to be someone else? Have something else? Secretly hope to not have some glaring blemish - as generally perceived by the outside world? 

Sometimes, I feel my thoughts are so different, and so against the grain, that I have to ask myself, "Am I crazy?"  When all parts of me feel so whole. Right. Comfortable. ...and fluid...

There is no permanent part of me. Not even my life. Ever changing, evolving, experiencing, withering, growing. We are so, so, so fluid. Like the water I lived in. Love. Enjoy. 

Are there things I might change at this exact moment? Sure. Like anyone, I can come up with a few imperfections. Are they things that I believe I CAN change? On my own? With the right training, research, discipline? Absolutely. I've always known I can accomplish anything -yet achieve nothing. In completeness. 

You do know, perfection doesn't exist, right? 

I've long since made peace with the proverbial mechanical hare. The moving target that I will never reach - and like our little Italian Greyhoud, Tater, who oft caught his prey then instantly panicked with a yelp: "wtf do I do now!?" - I think I would simply do the same. Where do I go from here?

Unlike, what I've observed {from what seems the majority} of my fellow man, I don't have a lot of arbitrary desires. If I want to change something, it's for a specific goal. Ideally, a multifactorial gain. I regard time & energy in the highest esteem. Don't spend it unwisely. 

"To what end?" Is my genuine, nonjudgmental and deeply curious reply.

Such a terse reply. I'm almost not allowed to ask it. So often she reacts with defensiveness - We are supposed to be unhappy with ourselves! You are doing this wrong - She whispers to herself.

If changing something about one's physique whether by diet, exercise, weights, surgery, injections, beauty products, supplements produces a result that fulfills a dream, a goal, a desire - please, don't ask permission. 

Don't seek acceptance for something so personal. Even if it's simple. Goals don't have to be lofty. Life altering. Goals are for you, and you alone. 

Don't misunderstand me, they can include others. You can want to be a better partner, mother, doctor. This will affect others, but it's still an individual change, desire, want.

It's all individual. To be the person you want to be is all up to you. It's inside of you. There's nothing initially external that will help you reach your goals. Improve your esteem. Get you a job. Nor a joyful relationship. And, the first stepping block isn't to change what you think society wants you to change. It's not to be like someone else. 

It's to be like YOU. 

And to become and live the most genuine "you" is to continually, truthfully, honestly and repetitively ask yourself the scariest of all questions: "Why?"  Over and over - until you get to the very core of your desires.

Why? Why do I want to change?

Or don't I?

The Hidden Art of the Lollygag.

George comes up to me one morning in the midst of the school and work readying frenzie and says to me, "I just don't get it. Mitch is the first one ready everyday AND he gets to play video games for like 30 minutes every morning. It's like he just wakes up, gets dressed, eats his breakfast and then sits and plays video games until we leave for school."

I say, "Right. That's exactly how it works. He gets up, does all the necessary things without dilly dallying or distraction, then gets more time to do what he wants while still getting out the door on time. What part do you not get, George?"

He sort of looks at me like I'm a crazy person as he fiddles with a cereal box, searching for a pen to do the maze on the back of it, with no shoes or socks on, and says, "I don't get it because I don't dilly dally!? I do the same thing as Mitch, but I don't have the time to play video games!"

And, I just laugh. "Bud, you are literally messing with a cereal box and telling me a whole, long, drawn out story about how you don't get how you don't have the same amount of time as Mitch, INSTEAD of actually just putting on your shoes and socks."

He laughs. "Ugh. Ok! I know! But there are so many more interesting things than just getting ready for school". He says using air quotes and deep change in inflection.

"So, you do get it then?"

I honestly can't offer much advice, as I suffer from the same affliction as George. Lollygagger's Syndrome.

In fact, I'm writing this "just real quick" before I go on a walk then eat lunch then continue planning our 20 year high school reunion then planning our weekend events - including Mitch's 8th birthday party - while also sending in all the meds and finishing all the charts from the morning and fielding texts from work, home, friends and family all during my 2 hour lunch break. (Before you get all amazed at my time management abilities - I WILL NOT accomplish even half of this. Especially, now that I'm typing.) 

Meanwhile, my lovely spouse, Matt is Mitch. I'll head up to bed 20 minutes before Matt with nothing to do but brush my teeth, change into pajamas and go to bed...yet, he ends up in bed with all these tasks completed before me, every time. Every time! I mean, the man simply finishes his routines, functions, projects, etc without distraction. So, I get it George. I really do. 

The thing of it is...I rarely regret my lollygagging. It sometimes {rarely} produces lovely, creative writing pieces. It most often results in plans for a fun weekend or evening. Or brightening someone's day {I hope} because of a silly photo or meme I've passed on to them via text. 

I run into kids, parents, teachers, family alike, and occasionally I'll get a "you won't believe what Mitch did" or a "I have a funny story to tell you about Mitch" or even a "love that kid" comment regarding Mitch. But I almost ALWAYS get these types of comments regarding George. 

Don't get me wrong. Mitch {and Matt} are awesome dudes. I love them more than anything. They offer many, many things that George {and I} do not. I truly could not select a preferred personality type. 

All I know is...for entertainment and procrastination purposes, you want George and I on your side. If you would like to *actually* accomplish your desired goal...bring in the other guys.

And thus, concludes, my somewhat pointless ramblings but chosen afternoon distraction activity for the day.

Sedona.

TRAILS:

Devil's Bridge: Very cool, if you want to walk out on (or get a picture standing on) the bridge, you want to do this on a low traffic ay (like middle of week) or slightly poor weather. Otherwise, you will be waiting a few hours for the pic.  

Sunset we drove up to a spot that gave 280 degree views, very pretty, don't know the name.

Soldier's Pass: This is an awesome hike, and you can make it as long as you want (lots of trail break offs). This is where you can climb inside a cave, and also see the 7 sacred pools.  Possibly me favorite.

Fay Canyon Arch: We did this in the afternoon when we were sort of exhausted, short and easy.

Church in the Rock: So many people recommended it, I felt it was meh. Very populated, despite rain.

Cathedral Rock: Most advanced climb that we did. A bit nerve wrecking in spots, but definitely worth it. Very cool views at the top! Also THE MOST busy location be far. So, again, middle of week or bad weather is best bet. 

Birthing Cave: Super short hike, but a really cool little spot. You could also rent a bike and do the SUPER long trail around it. 

Soldier's Pass

Devil's Bridge

Fay Canyon

Soldier's Pass

Devil's Bridge

Church in the Rock

Sunset

Cathedral Rock

Birthing Cave

Soldier's Pass

7 Sacred Pools (Solder's Pass)

Birthing Cave

Cathedral Rock

Cathedral Rock

Solder's Pass

Fay Canyon Arch

Soldier's Pass

Devil's Bridge

Devil's Bridge

 We ate at this awesome little Brewery, Sedona Beer Company - highly recommend!!

Gerardo's for a nice dinner was fantastic. 

Secret Garden Cafe had very fresh, yummy food. 

Creekside was the best breakfast place we patroned. 

Dinner at Hideaway, had no complaints there either. 

We ate a few other spots, but they were definitely replaceable. 

Parachutes, not Oxygen.

Begin rant.

For the last year, I've tried so so so unbelievably hard to remain PC (if that's even a thing anymore). Supportive. Make lemonade out of lemons. Urge people along to follow "guidelines" (despite feeling these guidelines were poorly constructed, short-sighted and even inappropriate and devastating at times). 

I'm losing patience.

After a year of consoling patient after patient, slowly crumbling from the anxieties of this pandemic, I can't help but get increasingly bitter. 

This vaccine roll out, has really put me over the edge. And, probably not in the way you think. 

I'm not bothered by the lack of organization, the inherent chaos, the bottle-necking, the wasting of vaccines and the inability to get this vaccine out to our most vulnerable. I KNEW this would be the case. If you are shocked, at all, by how the distribution of this vaccine has gone, then you are truly lying to yourself daily about our country, this government and the world really (because, I guarantee you, no country has gotten anything "perfect")...which is what brings me to my true beef: humans. 

I 100% agree with this tiered system. The absolute first people to get this vaccine should be every FRONTLINE health care worker and any human employed at, caretaking for or living in a long term care facility. I capitalize FRONTLINE, because I do not view anyone in controlled outpatient settings, the subspecialties, the chiropractors, the physical therapists, etc as "frontline". They're close, very close, and should be top of next tier (along with teachers), but they are not the ones directly treating known positives, they are not the ones potentially getting it nor spreading it at the rate of those working inpatient in the hospital. 

This vaccine, and the subsequent recommendations on distribution rolled out, and suddenly everyone is clambering for it. Do I qualify? Can I get it? How do I skirt the system? The most oft cited slogan I've heard to justify this behavior has been the "You put your oxygen mask on first, then you help those that may not know how."  And for some, I believe that to be true. I'm on forums full of selfless, bleeding heart primary care physicians who all begged to give their dose to one of their patient's that they knew needed it much more than they. 

You see, despite the rhetoric out there, that this "virus doesn't discriminate".  "Healthy people get it too." It does discriminate. It still very much does. There are clear groups of people that are more devastated by this pandemic than other groups. And it doesn't take much research or even much more than simple observation to figure out who these groups are. But, in case you struggle on this front, I'll list some groups for you: minorities, wage workers, unemployed, morbidly obese, those over 65, the uninsured, the homeless.

I'm going to let you in on something that should be obvious, but I'm no longer sure it is: I am not one of those groups - and I'm willing to bet, if you are reading this, neither are you. 

I'm 38. I'm in (what I consider to be) excellent health. I have top of the line health care benefits, as do my children and husband. I recently had Covid, and as we statistically expected I would, I had a mild case and full recovery. I work in an outpatient environment, surrounded by healthy, fully insured co-workers, and mostly "healthy", insured patients. My patients are "healthy" because, they ARE SEEING A DOCTOR. They have healthcare. They may have diabetes, high blood pressure, autoimmune disorders, so on and so forth, but we are MANAGING THEM!!! 

For me to have taken a vaccine in the past 2 months would not be putting my oxygen mask on first. For me to take a vaccine would be more likened to grabbing a parachute and jumping out of the plane before I even asked if there were enough for everyone on the flight. 

In more plain, and potentially triggering terms. It would be selfish. 

That's my beef. The answer for so many, is simply to get this vaccine. To finally get a pacifier to stop all the crying about the virus. How scary it is. How it's interrupted life. Made you stay home, and not travel, or see friends or family or loved ones. How it's increased anxiety and depression and suicides to an all time high. How devastating it is in every sector. How horrible other people are because they have flown on a plane. Or eaten indoors. Or hung out with friends. That we are infringing on rights by requiring reasonable protocols (such as masking, distancing, etc) How horrible our government is, and how they botched EVERYTHING. Give me, give me, give me, give me. Take. Take. Take. Take. 

Where is the accountability? I'm not talking big scale accountability. I'm talk small. Really small. I'm talking about YOUR accountability? Are you getting a full 8 hours of sleep? Are you eating well? Drinking well? Exercising? Caring for your mental and physical health? Putting yourself in the best position possible to beat this enemy? THIS is putting on your oxygen mask first. Or are you sitting around and asking someone else to do this for you? Biding your time, holed up in your home, waiting for someone to give you a handout so you can grab that parachute and hop right out of this godforsaken airplane of a pandemic?

Besides the islands (which are playing a whole different game) the most successful countries at combatting this virus also happen to have the lowest BMI average. They have universal healthcare (I'm not getting into a debate here either, I don't mind some healthy competition/capitalism, I'm just pointing out some commonalities). And more intrusive governments. 

The opportunities for you, personally, to reduce the devastation of this pandemic have been at your fingertips this entire time. And you either chose to use those fingertips to point at others. Or you made the best of it, did your part, assessed your own risk levels as well as risk tolerance, followed appropriate guidelines, supported who and whatever you could and continue to patiently wait until your turn for a parachute comes up. 

I know, I know, I can hear the counter argument now. 'What else were we supposed to do? We could get or spread the virus.' 'Some people don't believe the virus exists'. And, yes, in many ways these are valid concerns, thoughts, statements. Everyone could not go parading on as if there were no virus, but some of us HAD to and HAVE to still. And those of us who have the age, health and means on our side should have done this, as we are the lowest risk group. We would likely survive an exposure (from those behaving as if no pandemic), and we potentially have the knowledge to identify highest vs lowest risk of exposures and navigate this smartly. Were there and will there be casualties along the way? Absolutely, it's a pandemic!  In the time of hunting and gathering, the strongest always went out and faced the dangers of the elements - the weather, the predators, the terrain. Did we send out our strongest? Or did we sacrifice the "little guy"?? Had we sent only our strongest, would our numbers be as stark and devastating?

I want to clarify, I don't think I've done it all "right". I've made missteps along the way. To err is human. But I happily went to work everyday, trudging through the unknowns, to care for people. Though I probably interacted with more people than some feel "safe", I limited my encounters with others by the thousands. (Easiest example I will use is last year, between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I hosted or attended 17. SEVENTEEN holiday parties with more than 20+ people in a small indoor space, sharing food. I saw part of a few of the sides of my family this year). I wear a mask everywhere, with zero complaint. I did not fly anywhere until I felt I was in the safest place possible in regards to immunity. All of my decisions were fully informed, with intention and also with the knowledge that I have testing available as well as deeper knowledge about disease and it's spread than the general population.

I have no doubt, we are finally on the right path. That things will truly look up from here in many, many ways. I am so thankful for this. But, I fear that we might have gone through this whole entire pandemic, slaves to media and propaganda, and never really learning anything for ourselves. Or looking inside and asking yourself, really, really asking in a very deep and complicated way, am I part of the problem? Or part of the solution? 

To me, there were no simple solutions. No simple decisions. No one human, family, household that is alike. We all have and had very different roles in society, in this pandemic. Embracing our role, performing it to the best of our ability and supporting those from all walks of life is never the wrong decision.  And as we see our herd immunity ever expanding, we need to be more understanding than ever, that all are not equal. 

End rant.

Epilogue: In 30 days, I do have a decision to make about this vaccine. And because of my line of work, it is considered an oxygen mask type scenario. I don't want to be spreading virus - though, that's the biggest bugger of them all - supposedly, this vaccine ONLY protects me anyway. And doesn't actually decreased my ability to spread it...??? Soooo that's like a whole other rant in and of itself!!! Heaven forbid we get vaccinated and go to a restaurant or retail store, you know, to start supporting our local hurting economy - and by economy, I mean other humans trying to make a living. All of this makes me want to give my dose away to someone who really needs it EVEN MORE!! Argh!

It’s Not You.

 When I ruptured my Achilles’ tendon, I had about the smoothest medical experience one can have. I ruptured it on a Sunday. I had an appointment Monday first thing. I had surgery on Friday. Everything went as well as it could, no complications. I woke up from surgery and voila! I was on my way to recovery.  

A perk of being a native Kansas Citian, in the medical field, I {sort of} knew the anesthesiologist. The surgeon came highly recommended by his partner, who happened to also be my friend. I laughed in the pre-op area with the nurse, because she went to my high school and we knew each other, plus many mutual friends. My comfort level in my care could not have been higher. But, I’ll tell you what. Even with the best case scenario for every single step of my path to recovery...the whole thing SUCKED. Do not recommend. 

I cried briefly in the Pre-op room. It’s lonely, and isolating. They don’t allow your loved one back, and I had to strip down and sanitize my body. Waking up from anesthesia is the worst (for me anyway). My blood pressure is all over the place, as is my consciousness, and man! Did my ankle HURT. If you follow me at all on social media, you know I whined for weeks. Weeks and weeks and weeks. Months really. If you know me in real life, you got more whining, in the form of texts. Emails. Conversation. It was miserable. I was miserable. My husband was miserable. Again, do not recommend. 

In all this whining, I don’t think it ever once occurred to the surgeon that my agonizing. My displeasure in my current life and situation. My new and awful personal hardships...had ANYTHING to do with him and his surgery performance. Why would it? How could it? He didn’t force me to play pickle ball in shitty tennis shoes the day after a holiday spent standing in wedges. He didn’t have anything to do with me being fat and out of shape. Nor is he old enough to have anything to do with my genetic make up, that might have precluded me to such a fate. He’s just the guy with the skills who is trying to help me make it through this patch. 

So, why, I ask, are teachers taking anything parents say about how difficult, awful and life-altering virtual or hybrid learning is, personally? Did they create this virus? Did they shut down the schools? Are they the reason we parents are stuck home trying to suffer through our careers while herding our children? 

Because, as far as I can tell, they are the surgeons. Trying to make the best of this horrendous and impossible situation. They are the ones altering their plans to try and educate our children. They are on call, working around the clock, constantly having to maneuver through this. Some of them are parents themselves! Muddling through both sides. They are the trained professionals in which we entrust a huge part of our children’s’ future. And though, not unlike my surgery, the process is painful and long and unforgiving through this disaster of a year, we know it must be done. And frankly, because I complain about everything, I’m going to complain about the most difficult moments. The quarantining, the electronics failures, the emails. Oh my. ALL THE EMAILS. 

Parents and teachers are a team. We must be. We always should have been. We actually have the exact same goal. And the administration has the toughest job of all...trying to keep everyone safe. Educated. Maybe even happy (content might be a better word). We all have a common enemy, and it’s a pandemic. Literally every member of this team is on edge. Has been since March. Nearly a year. 

So, I implore everyone, parents and teachers alike, to take a step back. And a deep breath. And realize, we are in this together. Like it or not. And it sucks.