Counting the Cost

Most of the time, if you asked me what I was thinking about, I'd probably respond:
   "I'm wondering about the best way to run a wire for this outlet."
   "I have to decide whether to purchase a 10 yr tourist visa to India to make our 3 month BD visas easier to renew"
   "I need to remember to write down the list of documents I need for medical licensure in BD".
But it's all busy, logistics & urgent.

Our three older children remember Bangladesh fairly well, and happily.  They are excited about going (I think it feels to them a little like a long awaited party: inevitable and yet drawing nearer at an imperceptible rate).  Then, the other day for the first time, Mary said, "I don't want to go to Bangladesh because I'll miss my grandparents and my friends." Of course, an hour later she was excited about school there, but she's thinking about it.  She's grieving a little, counting the cost of going.  It's good, if a little hard.

As Laura and I work on the last few hurdles before departure, we are busy enough much of the time with to-do's that thought beyond the immediate present is banished.  With children, they are usually thinking, not about logistics, but about what will be, about how they feel about it now and what will change.  There's a big difference there.  If I'm not careful, I could wake up one morning in Dhaka to the sound of the azan and have no idea what has happened in the interim or what I think of it.

When we fill our lives with NPR as we drive, music as we run, nytimes.com, facebook or blogs in a free moment, or as we fill our waiting-in-lines with smartphones or even use our smartphones while talking to our kids we fill all the interstices of our life with noise, where we used to think, where we used to Think about hard things, where we used to face things.  It's easier to think about logistics.

I've been practicing turning off my radio and, as a discipline, not checking the news online.  I've been thinking, "I'm going to miss my family and my friends."

Grade B movie

In my office in the States, I occasionally had the privilege of conversations outside of the norm of "What's your blood pressure?" or "Where's the pain?".

Once, TC, one of my perpetually cheerful & funny patients (this is his T-shirt) seemed a bit subdued.  I asked him what was on his mind, and he responded, "I saw a grade B
movie last night and one of scenes disturbed me."

"What was it about?"

"Well, I doubt it would bother anybody else: it was just a throw-away line, but it hit me square between the eyes.  I'm having trouble shaking the feeling; you'll probably think I'm nuts."

"I doubt that"

"Well, one actor turned to the other and said, 'Are you living just to live?' and almost immediately I asked myself the same question.  You probably think I'm crazy to be hung-up on that."

"Not at all.  I can't think of a more important question."