’15 seconds is a lifetime when you’ve already been doing pushups for 2 minutes and 45 seconds.’ – Observation.
I can’t do pushups for three minutes. Or I suppose I – no, I won’t lie, it would come back to haunt me. For all I know the fate of the universe rides on the ability to do 100 pushups in 3 minutes. I am really hoping that the fate of the universe doesn’t come down to me and pushups…if it comes down to me, hopefully the fate of the universe will instead rely on –
(ok, I’m thinking here…)
my being able to reverse park (but only if no one is watching)? Or knowing all the words to Eleanor Rigby (I think I know all the words)? Or maybe knowing some really good quotes from The Princess Bride? The ability to tie a knot in a cherry stem?
Yeah…sorry…that’s all I’ve got.
I’ve been stewing on this post for a while. There is a lot going on in the life of undeadpollyanna…no more, I suppose than normal, but I’ll use the excuse any day.
The week started with a question that has been really, irritatingly, obnoxiously persistent:
When do you intervene?
When something is going wrong, when someone is hurting themselves or someone else, when you see something is going to happen and the consequences will be difficult? When do you step in and make the bad guy drop his weapon?
I LOVE that movie!
I digress though. I still want to know when you step in and DO something. Not just as the president or a general or a celebrity or even as a medical professional. When do you do something when you are a medical tech, a suburban mother, a wannabe writer, someone who cares enough to hold the door open for someone, and a plain old boring citizen?
I don’t know.
Before I go further, I will tell you a story…
We adopted a cat in January. Her name is Aspen (it is the name she came with) and she has an anxiety problem…we get along. As a family we are very hands off pet owners. I feed the cat, I clean up her litter box, I throw the ball for her and stand as a scratching post when she has nothing else to do. (She likes to stand behind me in the kitchen when I am ‘cooking’ and claw my calves. When I turn around to see what she is doing, she also turns around and says, ‘meow’. Then she runs off. I don’t think she likes my cooking.) I consider it a great honor when she comes to sit close to me or when she greets me at the door or when she wakes me up in the morning to play. I love that she goes to sit outside the boys’ room as I read them a story and then sits with me as I sit in the hall to read while they fall asleep (so they don’t sneak down the stairs and see something they are not supposed to…they are very sneaky boys). I don’t expect the cat to, but it is really nice that she does.
Oh, I should also mention that she is an inside cat.
This afternoon I cleaned out the area under my desk…I got rid of one box and two entire rubbish bags full of copies of drafts, notes, school papers and other things that I have no idea why I was holding on to. I was very proud. Aspen sat by me on the floor and wanted to inspect everything I threw away. She curled up next to me and kept me warm and made my husband shake his head and say, ‘she likes you.’ As if he was surprised that anyone/thing could like me.
After I went for a bike ride and came home, ‘cooked’ and ate dinner…then I realized that I hadn’t seen Aspen for a while. Usually, I look for her when she does this and I will see her reflective eyes staring at me from under the bed or on the bed or somewhere else as if to say, ‘You are disturbing me.’
This afternoon I looked in the usual places but I couldn’t find her. When this happens, I usually open the door to a closet and she comes streaking out. This afternoon, none of this happened. I couldn’t find her.
I began to worry.
I casually went to look again…just in case I wasn’t paying attention the first time I looked. I still didn’t find her.
Then my boys started looking and they didn’t find her. They began to cry and say things like, ‘It is all my fault!’ So I am thinking that they have let her outside when they were playing…The rising panic that I was feeling was nothing compared to the pain they felt. Never the less, I was proud that I was keeping it all together. I ‘kept it together’ as I looked in more and more impossible places to see if I could find her. I tore apart the boxes that I had put so carefully together under my desk, I went through the trash to make sure I hadn’t suffocated her in a Hefty bag. I looked in the garage, under the car, in the cupboards, in the oven and the dishwasher…I still didn’t find her. We destroyed all of the storage under the beds and in the closet creating a great big tornado like disaster area upstairs.
Finally, my husband, taking control, told me to get dressed and get my phone and the cat basket to be ready to come get her. He was going out to look.
Meanwhile the 5 year old told me that she would have to come back to eat. I told him that if she got out she would might have to hunt. The 8 year old broke down (again) and asked through sobs, if she could hunt. I assured him that she had instincts and ‘of course she could hunt’ but I wasn’t sure that I believed it myself. I don’t know that much about cats and I was looking out on the nature preserve that backs onto the condo and I just wasn’t sure that we’d ever see her again.
My husband came around the corner and shaking his head said, ‘Well, good news, the guy with the rottweilers said his dogs didn’t eat her.’
Aaach!
I went back in the house and the next thing I know, Aspen is coming down the stairs.
I scared the life out of her (remember she has an anxiety problem) jumping up and down and trying to take her into my arms. I am usually not very loud but the boys came inside, having heard me and we were all a happy family again.
Then I cried.
No one understood why but it was ok, because my cat was back.
So I have been struggling with this post for a while. I either didn’t have time to write it or didn’t have any words to express my confusion and moral anguish over this question. Then, the next thing I knew, I had another great example of another moral dilemma. I told my friend that I had told my sister that I am trying to learn that there is a time and place for everything. I cannot worry about being late or missing martial arts because of an inexplicable traffic jam, I cannot be angry or feel cheated because I did everything right and had everything running smoothly and on time to the point that we would have been early and my 8 year old didn’t have to have a stomach ache…I had to accept that it was ok. That driving all the way to Safeway across town, because we were half way there already, to get British foods and run into the lady who told me (unbidden) that children grow up so fast was of such benefit that it was worth missing martial arts for.
In all honesty, I am not sure what my point is here. I am slowly coming to a philosophic epiphany…but I can’t quite get there. It is kind of like looking into the sun.
The original question was this:
I still don’t know (as a medical ‘professional’ or not) when you would stand up and speak up if you suspect that someone did the bait and switch on a urine drug screen. Would it make a difference if you had hard evidence? Would it make a difference if she was pregnant? Would it make a difference if she had other kids at home? Would it make a difference if it was your best friend? Your sister? Your daughter? Would you personally take the children away? Would you call social services? Would you confront the bait and switcher because it might be a misunderstanding? Would you instigate rumors so that someone did something about it? Would you sit and do nothing?
I still don’t know (this is as a medical professional because I don’t think I have any sway in this at all) when you would be able to decide that the well being of a baby who is not growing appropriately and risks perinatal asphyxia because of a malformed placenta and has intermittent absent or reverse doppler flow and non-reassuring NST…(I hear these things and have a vague understanding of their meaning)…Anyway, delivery is indicated by every medical opinion that I have come across so far, however, the mother won’t agree and flat refuses to do anything. I keep hearing, ‘that baby is going to die.’ Will it? I don’t know. Maybe it would if it were delivered so early…maybe it will if no one does anything…maybe it is not anyone’s place to say anything except the mother of the child.
When do you push trying to get to martial arts when you now know you just won’t get there on time? When do you start obsessing about a blog post because there are just too many ideas in your head? When do you panic and cry and start mourning the cat when she’s upstairs all along? When do you call social services? When do you know how to stand up and make a fuss for what is right?
Would you consider testifying in court? Would you risk your own family’s comfort or safety to make a difference? (Curse you Hunger Games sequel for emphasizing my point and providing more readability!) Would you stand and make a statement with violence if necessary? If you aren’t already aware, they kill Wash…
When do you follow Shepard Book’s advice chanelled through Jane:
‘If you can’t do something smart, do something right.’?
I also LOVE that movie! (Serenity for my non-nerd readers…check it out if you can…I would provide a link but the previous one wiped me out. (Sorry for the spoiler.))
Aspen is now sitting at my feet and it is well past time to put the boys to bed. I am (now) enjoying my three day weekend with clean bathrooms and a re-organized under-desk…but I still want to know.
My husband is glad that the cat is back (even though he calls her fat and doesn’t understand her need to put her claws into his flesh). He is, however, upset that he had to speak to the neighbors and walk further than to his car and back in order to find her for me. I think with the excitement of the day, it may be worth going to bed…I might actually be able to sleep.
xoxo.
undeadpollyanna 