Mr. Carten, Your Tests Came Back Fine
You think about a lot of things.
You think about what could have happened, about what it could have been like. Plans that you would need to change, small details that pop up every time you walk into your house.
What about this, that, the next thing? I’m lucky: I don’t have many “toys,” so leaving what I have would not be that big a deal. I wonder what it’s like for someone with two or three really nice cars, a big house, another one at the shore, piles of investments, a big yacht, a great entertainment center. Suddenly, they can’t help you; they are Good-Time Charlies, willing to play with you, but not willing to comfort you when the times get bad, really bad.
But it’s not going to be that way; I'm fine, so they say. I have far more friends than toys and even if the worst were to happen, my friends would be there. My fair-weather friends already split the scene when I was diagnosed with epilepsy, so I know the ones who are left will stick by me.
Even so, with the future looking good, you still think about a lot of things. Maybe this is one of several dry runs for the day when. Perhaps it’s a chance to see what’s really important in my life, so I don’t get caught short on the day when. Could be we need to know that what happens to others will someday happen to us.
Eventually, it will be, “We have to talk about your tests.”
You think about what could have happened, about what it could have been like. Plans that you would need to change, small details that pop up every time you walk into your house.
What about this, that, the next thing? I’m lucky: I don’t have many “toys,” so leaving what I have would not be that big a deal. I wonder what it’s like for someone with two or three really nice cars, a big house, another one at the shore, piles of investments, a big yacht, a great entertainment center. Suddenly, they can’t help you; they are Good-Time Charlies, willing to play with you, but not willing to comfort you when the times get bad, really bad.
But it’s not going to be that way; I'm fine, so they say. I have far more friends than toys and even if the worst were to happen, my friends would be there. My fair-weather friends already split the scene when I was diagnosed with epilepsy, so I know the ones who are left will stick by me.
Even so, with the future looking good, you still think about a lot of things. Maybe this is one of several dry runs for the day when. Perhaps it’s a chance to see what’s really important in my life, so I don’t get caught short on the day when. Could be we need to know that what happens to others will someday happen to us.
Eventually, it will be, “We have to talk about your tests.”
posted by Tom Carten at 1:27 AM
2 Comments:
ahhhhh but the real tests are those that are not medical, but the daily "tests" we encounter from sun up to sunset.
Every once in a while one gets to look death in the face, and walk away unscathed.
If you're lucky, the resulting priority shift becomes a permanent way of life.
Congratulations on the test results. :)
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