Perspective

You might wonder what that previous title, a title without an entry, was all about. Well, when you leave your lunch in the car, then go to Jimmy John's to get a sandwich, and promptly lose that sandwich on the one-block walk back to class, you appear just the slightest bit crazy when you return to Jimmy John's to ask if anybody turned in a sandwich.

Bad week.

But today, I'm realizing not really all that bad.

For instance, my Health Assessment teacher is going through chemo for breast cancer. As an aside, I think I'm in love with her. She's about the best teacher I ever had. Today during lecture, she pulled out a huge chunk of her own hair and I about started crying. She'll probably be fine and all, but what an incredibly personal way to interact with her class. I know this, because I had to stick my hands down a classmates pants the other day as I looked for the femoral vein.

Then, I called my well-elder for my clinical project. This guy really isn't "well" in the way most people are. For instance, he's 93 and pretty disgusting. Last week I picked up a 5 pound, urine-soaked pad off his living room floor. Anyway, I called him tonight and he told me his blood-work came back and things aren't looking so hot.

And my "frail" elder is on hospice. So there's that.

In the grand scheme of things, losing a sandwich doesn't seem like such a big deal. Neither does the incident where the bus driver yelled at me, or the frustration of not being able to keep track of everything, or the broken dryer, or the Intro test I don't feel great about.

Then why does it feel like such a big deal?