Gut check

Everybody needs a gut check once in awhile. I have them periodically. I'll narrowly miss running off the road because of some giant pothole I saw at the last minute, barely escape having my noggin cooked by an insanely close bolt of lightning, or come home to my neighborhood filled with sirens and flashing lights only to realize it's the house next door. It's just good practice to have those kind of days once in awhile and it only reiterates my assertion that there is someone looking out for us. As long as we pay close enough attention, they can show us the path to the happiest existence possible, even if it is only by comparison.


Since my last "be thankful, dammit" moment when the lightning almost took me out about a month ago, my level of anxiety has started to rise again. The job hunt has begun and I hear this tiny tick-tock, only the "tock" is going up in tone as if being pinched by a question mark. I am feeling the pressure of uncertainty again and I do not like it. It's to the point where, after a particularly anxiety-provoking meeting today and then news on the economic legal climate in Greensboro when I got home, well...I was starting to regress into my 2 year old temper tantrum-throwing self.


Fortunately, though, I happened to be paying attention today. My best friend is a photographer and just helped put together an exhibit of cancer patients for the new Cancer Center at UNC. http://www.tamaralackeyblog.com. And as I flipped through the amazing pictures, I started to reflect on the other parts of my day. The 19 year old that broke down in tears when her world suddenly changed with the positive pregnancy test I had to tell her about. Or the 64 year old Vietnam vet that sat speechless in my office when I told him he has diabetes. Or the 46 year old smoker who is living in a house with her husband, his ex-wife, and 9 other half-related pot-smoking relatives who saw me today after her heart attack to talk about how, no matter how hard she tries, she will never be able to stop smoking because none of the other 11 people in her house want to quit either. Oh, and, she doesn't have insurance to pay the hospital bills or subsequent care she'll need following her heart attack. Then there was the very sweet but morbidly obese 3 year old accompanied by his morbidly obese 17 year old mother who kept saying "You better talk to the doctor or she's gonna stick you" despite my best efforts to assure the fear-stricken child that no matter what he did, I would most certainly not punish him with a needle.


My husband is tall, dark, handsome, healthy, successful, and madly in love with me. My son is adorable, developing normally, and loves to sit on my hip and chew on my shirt while I wander around the house(even if he currently uses "ma ma" to voice his displeasure). I have a home and a job and a family that I love and that loves me. I do not have cancer, or 11 smokey roommates, or a morbidly obese teenage mother that threatens me daily with physical harm. All in all, my life is pretty darn amazing and that was just the reminder I needed to eat my giant slice of yellow cake without frosting while watching my glutinous tv shows in peace.