A Good Cry

My friend and I went for a short hike the other day in Foothills Park in neighboring Palo Alto, CA. The experience was great but it would have been a lot better if it wasn't raining. We had decided beforehand that we were going to hike rain or shine, and during the start of the hike my friend kept on asking me if I was still up to it. I was okay since I was wearing a thermal undershirt and was pretty toasty despite the fact that I was sopping wet. I was surprised when she was the one who had to call it quits because she got so cold! I felt kind of bad because she was trying to stay warm by picking up the pace on the uphill climbs but I started lagging behind and she had to wait for me once or twice.

The view from the hike was incredible – woodlands and fields and streams - but the whole experience was dampened by one itty-bitty detail… The Palo Alto Woodlands is mountain lion country, and warnings are posted all over the park warning people not to go alone in the park because mountain lions have been sighted and have been "showing atypical curiosity towards people walking dogs." Heehee. We thought it was funny that they made this great park and then posted signs all over the place to scare people off. Well, my friend had encountered a bear once and so she was really edgy about the whole mountain lion thing. It was a shame, though - I could really enjoy walking these trails by myself. I usually carry a piece of paper in my pocket (with my name and contact information for my next of kin) whenever I go out on my little field trips. I realized I probably have to laminate one for rainy days like this. You know, in case my remains are found in a ditch somewhere hahaha (that's awful!). Or maybe when pieces of me are dangling from a mountain lion's mouth. (I kept on telling my friend that they are not big enough to attack humans anyway. I think.)

Yummy! Hiker Combo meal!

I'm glad I got to do some new things this week, because in the past couple of days I've been down in the dumps, in a way. I deal with a lot of illness and suffering at work and I understand that it is a part of the job, but sometimes when I'm really tired and have only had about 7 hours of sleep in a 72 hour stretch, it does tend to catch up with me.

For example, when older patients die peacefully it doesn't really bother me, but there was a patient in the unit who passed away (only 51 yrs old) despite our resuscitative efforts – and I could not forget the look on his face even after the docs pronounced his time of death. And a few days after that I had to do a treatment on an 89 year old lady that was probably the equivalent of pouring battery acid on her open wounds. Suffice it to say, it was a loooong walk home after that one.

It was one of those times when I actually craved a stiff drink. That, or maybe sit out on the patio, bury my face in someone's neck and stay there for the rest of the afternoon. Well, since alcohol gives me such a horrible hangover and I am in poor supply of available necks to bury my face in, I had to bring out the big guns (exclusively for emergencies only) that we women call 'A Good Cry'.

You probably won't understand the concept of the Good Cry if you're not a woman, but if you're somehow related or closely associated to one, you'd have a good idea. So there I was, at home, trying to make myself cry. I was having no success, so I decided I'd think of something that would make me cry, but I had not been heartbroken/sad/lonely/desperate/angry/frustrated about anything in a long time, and for the few times I tried to induce myself to cry I actually ended up laughing my head off each time at the silliness of the whole situation. I swear, if neighbors saw me from an open window they would conclude that I've finally lost my marbles and would be calling 911 for the men in the white coats to bring a straitjacket for me.

The Good Cry eluded me for a few days and so I joked about it to my other traveller friends. One of them told me that she read in a book that suggested to make a total drama out of it and do it like one of those old 1930's movies – and that totally worked for her. I asked her, "someone actually wrote this? In a book?" We all got a good laugh out of it but I was mildly annoyed at this black cloud hovering over my head for more than a week so I was actually open to any kooky ideas. Long story short, I ended up laughing at myself even harder.

Days like these used to bother me a lot, but I realize that I can't go through life feeling "up" all the time. Besides, how can you truly appreciate the highs when you've never been through the lows? But intermittent low points is not the same as moping around (which was what I was doing at that point), and so I had to take some action. I was getting tired of being irritable and it was nearing a 2-week mark.

Anyway, I woke up last Monday with a splitting headache and an upset stomach and a temp of 99.8F. I was feeling miserable enough that I finally got my Good Cry – and no laughing this time (hehe). After that was done and over with, I told myself, "Okay. Enough of this moping around. What can I do to make you happy right now?"

I answered, "I want some *&^%*^& San Francisco clam chowder."

So, I got out of bed, got my butt on the Caltrain, and got myself some *&^%$# San Francisco clam chowder. Problem solved.

(this was an exerpt from an email I had previously sent to a friend)