my city, my rules

You’re number one šŸŽ§

One of our clients has Alzheimer’s, and her children are having to put her in memory care. I also learned that, unbeknownst to her, she has stage four brain cancer.

Sometimes I wonder how I ended up in a career like this—one where life events pop up often enough to force you into a headspace of reflection, sadness, and grief.

It upsets me right up until the point where I realize I’m being given a gift. The one that makes me pick up the phone and text my mom and my dad and my sisters and everyone I really love. Because they are still here, and they are still healthy, and I am still here, and I am still healthy. And I know I’m not guaranteed that.

Remember when LiveJournal let you select your mood and the song you were playing? Today, it’s pensive, and it’s The Velvet Underground & Nico’s ā€œHeroinā€ because my sister texted it to me this morning. A thing that she does almost weekly that I cherish, because her Gen X music tastes win over mine.

I’m pretending I’m humble. I love my music taste.

My client was a beautiful human. She listened to my quick review of her account and rarely had any questions. At the end of every call, she would say, ā€œGosh, you’re just the best,ā€ or ā€œYou’re number one, you know that? Number one.ā€ Her tone was straight out of the sixties. I pictured her in a kitchen with linoleum floors and a phone on the wall with a spiral cord. Was she in a dress that fell to her shins, or a pair of pressed slacks with penny loafers?

I know it’s silly, but I can’t believe the way time works. I can’t believe how quickly someone can go from okay to not okay.

Last night, I was trying to fall asleep to a sleep meditation, but because it was guided, the wording of the instructor trapped me in a loop. She said something about being grateful for the life inside your body, which immediately made me switch to what happens when life is no longer inside your body. You can imagine how relaxed that made me.

I thought of everyone I’ve ever loved who has been sick and died from that sickness, and I felt intense grief grip me. I leaned into my partner for comfort, but even that made me sad. The only thing we are guaranteed in this lifetime is that things change.

At the end of the meditation, the instructor said if you are falling asleep, fall asleep. If you are coming out of this meditation, take a deep breath.

I took the deep breath.

(Daily Writing 014)