I think each of us "sees" things through a particular lens that is shaped by what is going on in our mind. Something curious has happened to me since getting my new bike this past November, and especially since committing to take part in the Sea to Sea 2008 bike tour...No matter where I drive lately, I am constantly scrutinizing every single road and route I travel with regard to "bikability" (I don't think that's a real word, but it should be). Every road has become a potential bike path in my mind's eye. Where I live in northern New Jersey is a far cry from southwestern Michigan--in more ways than one--but I'm referring again to bikability. The roads surrounding my childhood home on the rural outskirts of Kalamazoo were almost completely flat, VERY little traffic, and laid out in perfect square miles. There was not much to "planning" a bike ride...you would simply ride north X number of miles, then turn around and ride south X number of miles (many evenings, "X" happened to be exactly the distance to the Plainwell Ice Cream Shoppe). In northwestern New Jersey, on the other hand, it's very hilly and the road patterns on a map have all the design of a spilled plate of spaghetti. So, as I'm doing errands and bringing kids to activities, I am constantly daydreaming about what it would be like to bike certain roads, or to particular destinations. "Ooh, this is a nice flat, smooth road." "This would make a nice loop." "Oh man, I don't want to ever bike this road going THIS direction!"
I had another type of "mind's eye" experience today, also related to the Sea to Sea tour, but nothing to do with cycling. I'm writing this from a hospital room where my 4-year-old is sleeping peacefully, hooked up to an IV line, recovering from dehydration after a 3-day-long "vomit-fest." It was really heartbreaking to see her become so weak and listless and every mother gets a little freaked out seeing their child hooked up to tubes and machines. Yet, from a medical standpoint, this was actually pretty boring and routine stuff for the hospital staff, and I really had no concerns about her being in any serious danger. Run a bunch of fluids. Make sure she's peeing. Clear liquids and jello. A little solid food. You're discharged.
Maybe because of my "mind's eye" being tuned in to the Sea to Sea ride and its cause, for a moment in the ER this afternoon, I couldn't help but picture that mothers in poverty-stricken regions of the world probably watch their children die from the same type of thing. That wasn't really something I enjoyed thinking about, but I found it hard to shake off. One of the stated goals of the Sea to Sea tour is to raise awareness of poverty issues; I guess it's already working on me, whether I like it or not...
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2 comments:
Wow -- powerful post. I'm so sorry to hear about your situation!! How scary -- I would be a wreck -- but it's calming to know that this kind of thing is "routine" for the hospital. But still ... what a day! (I thought you had plans for the weekend?)
Interesting connection between what you experienced in the ER vs. what others experience on a daily basis around the world ... and how you now are connected to that in a very real way. Having your eyes opened can be both a blessing yet difficult to "see" at the same time. I think your awareness will help you even more as you race around spaghetti-trails.
Keep us posted -- our prayers are with you!
I know what you mean about thinking about things you don't necessarily want to. It is much easier to stay in our "safe" mindset where rarely children die of trivial things like the stomach flu. My heart too goes out to mothers who don't have the resources to save their children. Think how God's heart breaks, He can see each one of them suffering.
Hope ANnika is feeling better, and no one else gets it.
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