I am trying to study. It is Friday night and I am not in the mood but I know I need to do it. Usually, I fall into a rhythm and I really don't want to stop. For a brief moment, I enjoy math. Tonight is not one of those cases. I am learning completely new material and my mind is not on it. I am trying, but something else consumes me. I was speaking with my mentor earlier today and suddenly she stopped. "Dr. Underdog, we need to change gears for just a second," she said. I sat there confused. She told me bluntly that she was going to have a hysterectomy and would be out of commission for about 4 weeks. I asked if she was OK. "Yeah...well, I will be." She told me about how she had asked about having liposuction performed at the same time but that, due to mass loss it was not going to happen. She joked about asking for a face lift as an alternative. We discussed how much weight she would lose as a result of the removal of the organs and she was surprised. I knew the numbers because my mother had the surgery done when I was in junior high. We joked on. She mentioned that "they" told her she had to have it done. In other words, this is not an elective procedure. I gathered that by her initial response: "I will be." She said that she would be available via phone and email until she is back on her feet... "You know how I deal with being down," she remarked.
I didn't press the subject very hard. I felt that she told me more than she needed to and I was grateful. But, it is obvious that this is not a benign situation and that is what has my mind right now. If it weren't for her, I would never be on this path in the first place. I would have remained a dreamer and not a doer. I would still be wondering what could have been and not looking forward to applying to medical school next year. I would still not be able to read. I would not be... a lot of good things.
This week was already one of thinking as I received an email from my dad that a man that had meant a lot to me growing up had died. Sonny was the husband of my youth minister, Mary Jayne, when I was in high school. I was extremely active in my church and spent a lot of time with them at various things and have great memories of times at their lake house where they eventually moved. Later, in my early 20s, I converted out of the Catholic church and married a Methodist minister. My parents had already made it clear to me that they were not happy about my conversion. Sonny had returned to seminary and became a deacon in the Catholic church, the highest position allowed to a married man. Unfortunately, our last encounter was not a good one. I was in Mary Jayne's office in my late 20s and Sonny walked down the hall. He saw me and walked right by. All he had to say (not even to me, but about me) was "Don't get near her, she will convert you." I laughed it off and tried to hug him, but he practically ran from me. It hurt. One of these days I will write about the hatefulness of those within the church and the pain of being a pastor's wife. But, for now, the world lost a great guy. Despite the way he treated me that day. Sonny died on June 8. While driving, he pulled over to the side of the road and had a heart attack. Sonny's picture (obviously in deacon robes) is the picture at the top of this post.
Whatever the underlying situation with my mentor, I pray that she is not lost. Call me selfish. Perhaps that is why math is the last thing on my mind.
No comments:
Post a Comment