The Hardest Thing to Do

A first person account of Daniel Mercy:

I remember when my best friend, Johnny, came home from the hospital. We were both five. But he was half my size. He had been living with leukemia but then, he died. I remember that was when I first decided "when I grow up I'm going to be a doctor".

I soon forgot that dream and before you know it, all I wanted to do was ride my bike and be a racer. As I peddled like a speed demon delivering the newspaper throughout the neighborhood, I always avoided the house of Johnny's parents as much as possible. I got very good at throwing the paper from impossible distances, making sure his parents weren't in sight. If they were, I would go back later to deliver.

As I grew older Mom and Dad encouraged me to be an accountant. They pointed out my thriftiness with the income I made from my paper route as a way to point out that I was a "natural" for such a career. I would be secure with good money and I would always be well off, they said.

It was at that time I took up art and scribbled away on any piece of paper I could get my hands on drawing the microbes I saw in Biology class, drawing the map of the stars in astronomy class. It was then I decided I wanted to be an astronomer

But, the day came when at a neighborhood festival, I ran into Johnny's parents. They had gone on with their lives, and had other kids by this time. I met them one by one, right down to the youngest, the five year old they had named John.

That day is indelible in my mind, it was the day I got serious and began to study. I made up my mind, it would be medical school or nothing. It wasn't easy. I thought it was the hardest thing in the world I would ever do. But, it wasn't.

I thought the hardest thing I ever did was when my first patient died. I went home in a daze, I punched the wall in the garage before I went in the house and cried my eyes out in my wife's arms.

But, that truly was not the hardest thing I ever did. Not the hardest thing I will ever do.

The hardest thing I ever do, is every day... Sometimes it is when I have a new patient come in the door with worried parents.

And later on, after you have tried your best to save that little life, you would think the hardest thing is being honest and telling the kid its over. But they are so understanding and wise beyond their years. They already know. They are relieved. They want it to be over. They know it is time. They knew it before I did.

But that's not the hardest thing. The hardest thing is telling the parents there is nothing else that can be done. That it is all over. Time to go home and wait it out. Get hospice. And knowing the child wants to go, but the parents cling. That's the hardest thing.

>>>>>>>

Note: This was a fictional writing exercise in character development.

Human

I am human.

I bleed.

I ache, my chest heaves

I cry real tears,

sometimes wipe them away,

wondering.

Where did that come from?


I am human.

At my weakest,

a ball of bread dough

waiting to arise

through the science

of warmth and yeast.

At my best, a wondrous child

of the Creator.

I am human

swept along the riverbed

with the rest of humanity

carried to the open sea,

not to be lost,

but to find myself

as one among the many.


I am human

knowing nothing

except of what I convince myself.

My illusions in flux,

one day transforms

into another until

I look back

and recognize only

someone has been there.

Could it have been human?

Life is full of Tigers

Here's a little story. You've probably heard it before in one form or another. This story concerns a man or maybe it's a woman, who is being chased by a tiger until she reaches a cliff where she totters for a moment before falling.

Already know this one? Read it anyway.

As she tumbles down the side she grabs hold of a small shrub growing on the face of the cliff. She hangs there, poised precariously between life and death contemplating her next possible move.

She looks up. Above her the tiger remains panting and growling pacing back and forth. She knows she can't climb up. Looking down she sees another tiger prowling in anticipation at the bottom of the cliff. Where did he come from?

Then to make life even more interesting, she notices two small mice are now busily gnawing away at the main stem of the shrub on which her life literally depends.

Simultaneously she sees some wild roses growing just within reach. She plucks one and puts them to her nose to sniff and thinks to herself, "Ah... how intensely beautiful the fragrance!"

~~~

Life is full of tigers and the adrenaline and stress that come with them. This week tigers have been everywhere I turn. And those darn mice are but the gnawing worry that kept me awake last night wondering what I could do about the situations I was facing.

But, today while awaiting the results of a ten hour long surgery of a patient who is in my bone cancer support group, and hanging out with my elder lady buddies in the book discussion group I attend, and coming home to my three cats who come running to me like puppies to be petted; it was then I stopped and smelled the roses!

Who knows? Maybe all those tigers I've been dealing with will turn out to be made of paper after all.

Note: Both photos were taken by me. The Sierra Rose photo was enhanced in photoshop by plucking a rose from another picture and placing it there next to the dying bush.

Jasmine Elizabeth's Birth Day

.

I remember the day you were born. Your Mama was already ensconced in the hospital birthing room with a bevvy of nurses bustling around.

No... wait a minute. They weren't exactly bustling. Maybe more like joking. They were all quite jolly, you see. It seems they all knew each other and your mom from high school and this was like a big reunion. Maybe they all weren't nurses, either. I mean... how could that many nurses be assigned to one patient? Maybe.. um... maybe one was a nurse, one was an aide, one was going off duty and one was hanging around. I really don't know. But, it still boggles my mind that in the center of all these giggling women, sat your mother, calm and tranquil, almost invisible, it seemed, like a beautiful jewel hidden behind a veil of serenity. She had such an amazing aura about her countenance.

Your grandmother was there, too; sometimes involved with the "Ladies of the Court", sometimes focused on your mom. Always the hostess with the mostest, making sure everyone was happy, everyone's needs were met, often relaying messages to those outside, always a smile on her face. Isn't that just like your Mima?

It all reminded me of a nature show I once saw about a beehive, where all the busy bees gather around the Queen Bee. They were buzzing and active, and the queen was simply gestating. Though she's the quiet one, she's the one expending the most energy. Perhaps, in a way, she could borrow their energy in order to make her job more effective. I'm just speculating on that, of course. I know so little about apiculture.

My son, your cousin, was in a new high school associated with Ball State University called The Academy, and since it was the beginning of the school year, the students weren't spending their time in the dorms on the weekends. You must have been born on a Friday, now that I think of it. I had previously committed to pick up some other students and bring them home with Xavier that day. It was such a long way from Indianapolis to Muncie, and at that time there was no such thing as a cell phone. There was no way to get in touch and call another mom to take over the responsibility.

So, as the sun crossed the sky, I sat there rubbing your mama's feet and wishing you would soon bless the world with your presence. I didn't want to miss it for the world. But, the hours passed and it came closer to the time I was to pick up your cousin and his friends. I knew it was time for me to leave. I sent you a message in my thoughts, asking you to wait until I returned.

Xavier was standing on the sidewalk outside the dorm looking a annoyed and embarrassed that his own mom stood him up, and showed up late for that first very important weekend. His friends didn't seemed too concerned and when everyone piled into the car and I explained why I was late, they all understood.

So, there we were speeding down Highway 69, and I mean it. I was exceeding the speed limit, maybe way too much, because everyone was pretty quiet. Soon enough we arrived at the drop off point and we headed east on 70 hoping that you had waited for us that extra forty miles.

I cannot express the sadness I felt that I could not be there for your mom during that time and to welcome you into the world. Yes, of course, your Mima was there, as it should be. But, oh, how I wanted to be there too, but you had arrived before us. By this time there was a nurse, practically on guard outside your mother's door, keeping everyone shooed away. All she would do is announce that the Auntie was present. So many other relatives now were out in the hall, I thought for sure I'd be overlooked.

Yet, still the Queen, your mother had summoned Xavier and me inside and we all hugged, apologized for not being here and talked about our various experiences since last we'd been together. You were not in the room, having been taken to the nursery. Another disappointment for me. I had wanted to hold you, even if I was late. But, that was not to be, either.

After a while the window blinds were drawn on the big nursery window and you were pointed out to me and Xavier. I stood there in awe. I had never in my life seen a baby like you. There you were with your legs firmly planted in the air like a bird on a perch just waiting to take off. Seriously! Has anyone ever told you about that? I expected to see a little snuggled bundled with a dark little head peeking out the top, but those legs of yours were not to be confined.

I think of you often like a bird, always ready to fly through the sky to explore the world, to come back and perch on a branch. Not a very romantic image for a baby girl I guess.

But, now that I think of it, soon, like a fledgling, you will be preparing yourself to begin your journey into adulthood. When the feathers of your wings grow in fully and you are ready, I can see you soaring with the air fluttering behind you, the sun warming you and the clouds smiling as you go by.

Happy Birthday my dear precious namesake.

Minimalist Book Seller

I've now gathered another eighty books to haul off to see if someone wants them. There are two other bookstores in the county of which I am aware, that will buy or trade books. Or I have the option of selling on half.com  I have a dear friend who has offered to help me maneuver their system. She's done quite well selling her books there.

Decisions, decisions. Do I take the time and energy to load books in the trunk of my car, including the ones rejected already by one bookstore? Or, shall I cull out the ones that will sell on half.com and make some cash? The advantage of the first is the simplicity of unloading books all at once. But there is no guarantee, of course, they will be purchased or traded, and I might just come home with a trunk full of books anyway, and nothing to show for my time and energy. Do I want to spend a couple days driving around the county to drop books off, waiting a few days and returning only to be told, "We want these, but not these." or worse yet, "Sorry, we don't want any."

The disadvantage of selling online is that I'll have those same books, not in my trunk but stacked up under the table in the living room, (where they are now) taking up space, having my home in disarray, and having to be dealt with. The advantage would be that two people will be attending to this. It might be fun!

In both cases, receiving money of any sort will still be up to chance. Perhaps the leftover books could be sold on ebay in a lot. I've always wanted to try ebay selling. I certainly buy enough things there, which has got to stop if I am to continue working towards a more minimalist lifestyle. I will need to ask my brother, who sells on ebay all the time, how easy or complicated it might be.

I wonder, too, if the rejects would be a kind gift to donate to the Senior Center, or an insult. Some of those well read paperbacks might not be wanted. When I am down to the last should I donate to the thrift shop? Or just toss those rejects in the recycle bin?

In the meantime, I still have seven other shelves full of books to consider in the future! Too bad I just don't have the courage to release them through Freecycle and let someone else quickly and easily take them off my hands. Why do I want to be so responsible in dissolving my book collection? Am I simplifying my life? Is this how to become a minimalist? Is there a right way, a better way to do this?

Related posts

Part 1 - Overbooked
Part 2 - Take Some Books Off My Hands
Part 3 - Is Dreaming of Book Disposal a Nightmare?
Part 4: Stealing from the Book Store

Stealing from the Book Store

Seventy five books I turned into the Capitola Book Cafe to be purchased or traded. Surprisingly. I was offered $76 trade or $44 cash. Guess which offer I accepted?

Interestingly these offers were made upon only twenty eight of my books and the rest were given back to me. I took the trade and ended up with three new books of my choosing. Two of them of great importance to me, and the third will be read and passed on to someone else. It was only $8 and marked down because it was someone else's trade-in book. I not only feel like I got a deal, but I got a steal!

And I didn't spend all of the $76 trade. I still have $24 left over. I intend to get a cookbook for someone I deeply care about who loves to cook. Well, at least he likes to look at pictures of food and read the recipes. He already has a great cooking style and repertoire. I'm not sure he would take on a new recipe to try out. But, I know he would love the book, and since his birthday is coming up, it's a perfect gift, (aside from the sobakawa pillow I already have in the closet).

See related posts:

Calls for Submissions

CALL FOR POETRY SUBMISSIONS:

ECHOES #11
FOR FALL-WINTER 2010
 
Deadline: September 30, 2010

We are a small hand-stitched publication and will consider poems of one page or less. Please submit up to three poems. No previously published work will be accepted. No simultaneous submissions. Entries should be submitted within the body of one email. No attachments, please.

Email all submissions to
Submissions Manager Carol Deprez 
Echoeslit.submit@gmail.com

Subject line: Echoes Submission

Questions? Paula Anderson, Editor
andersonp3@earthlink.net
Subject line:  Echoes

**********************************
CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS:

CAVE WALL,
A JOURNAL OF POETRY AND ART

Deadline: September 30, 2010

They read unsolicited submissions and have included well-known poets.

For guidelines: Send SASE to:

Cave Wall Press LLC,
P.O. Box 29546
Greensboro, NC, 27429-9546

or visit http://www.cavewallpress.com/

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS:

2011 PERUGIA PRESS PRIZE

Deadline: November 15, 2010
Prize $1000 and publication

Perugia Press announces its annual contest for a first or second unpublished poetry collection by a woman.

Submit manuscripts with a $25 entry fee. Send an e-mail, SASE, or visit us online for complete guidelines.

The 2010 winner, “Each Crumbling House,” by Melody S. Gee, is now available from our web site.

Perugia Press Prize
P.O. Box 60364
Florence, MA 01062

info@perugiapress.com

*************************************
CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS:

ARKTOI BOOKS

Deadline: November, 2010.

Looking for Creative Nonfiction by Lesbian Authors

Arktoi Books, an imprint of Red Hen Press, specializing in the work of lesbian authors, is calling for book-length submissions of Creative Nonfiction.

For information, please visit

http://www.arktoi.com

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CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS:

THE ONE HUNDRED WORDS POETRY ANTHOLOGY

Deadline: December 1, 2010

Theme: The Sex Poem

Edited by Patricia Smith

How do we re-energize and reinvent the sex poem? We identify the 100 words that are the most blatant offenders, and we declare them off limits. That forces us to examine the act without the customary escape routes, those words that say "I don't know how to say this, so I'm saying this."    

For a list of the forbidden words, please email 100Wrds@gmail.com.     

Submissions of any length or style will be accepted at the same address. Please, no more than three poems per submission. As of yet, no publisher has yet been wooed for this project, but the search is on.

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CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS: MAGNOLIA  LITERARY JOURNAL

Magnolia Journal publishes socially engaged literature by women.

They are accepting works of fiction, creative non-fiction and poetry on topics of social and political significance. Full submission guidelines

available online October 1st.

http://www.hercircleezine.com/magnolia-journal/

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CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS:

HER CIRCLE EZINE, AN ONLINE JOURNAL,

CELEBRATES WORK BY WOMEN THAT ADDRESSES SOCIAL ISSUES

Artists and writers featured in Her Circle use their work as a means of addressing identity, gender, ethnicity, politics, and statutes that surround and shape women's lives, challenging us to reevaluate and re-imagine the world in which we live.

We accept book reviews, guest blog posts, and feature articles on topics related to women's literature and visual arts.  While we prefer unpublished material, we will consider works that have already been published in print or online.

Submissions are accepted via email, with the content pasted or typed into the body of the message; please do not send attachments.

Submissions may be sent to the following:

Book reviews,
books@hercircleezine.com

The Writer's Life blog (guest blog posts, short Q & A pieces),
books@hercircleezine.com

UpClose interviews, Writing from the Margins, and special features,

features@hercircleezine.com

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CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS:

POEMS ABOUT WINE VINEYARDS

(Imbibing and Production)

Deadline, November 1, 2010

Napa Valley or others

Please submit a maximum of three poems and a brief cover letter with contact information to http://www.juddshill.com  “Arts & Recipes” and “Poetry.”

Selected poems will appear on the Judd’s Hill website and winner will receive a very big bottle of wine if it is legal in your state. No fee for entry.

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CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS:

ROCK & SLING,
A JOURNAL OF ART, LITERATURE AND FAITH

FOR THEIR WINTER ISSUE 2010-2011

A literary journal committed to standards of excellence and the Christian faith is soliciting authors and artists for their upcoming issues. They will publish two print issues each year and a website ( http://www.rockandsling.com ) with expanded content for art, pod casts of readings, author profiles, interviews and more.

Whitworth University,
300 W. Hawthorne Road,
Spokane, WA. 99251

tcaraway@whitworth.edu

Mystery Windows

My bathroom was created with windows high above the shower/tub as was usual in the day before bathroom ceiling exhaust fans were common. The idea was, turn on the shower, open the window, let the steam out.

Needless to say, this is a very convenient perch for my cats. Bambi, the bug watcher, especially likes this spot. It's fascinating to see her leap from the edge of the tub to this high window ledge. Sometimes she almost slips on the tiles which adjoin the edge of the window. She grabs at the screen to catch her balance. Therefore "cat claw holes" in the screen, and a great invitation for Bambi's favorite snacks to make their entrance!

Recently, I've noticed something odd. No matter how clean  the bathtub is scrubbed, by the next day, a sprinkling dirt has magically appeared. I thought maybe the cats were tracking it in, or it was falling off the bottom of their feet as they leaped up to the window. But, common sense tells me that indoor-only cats have little opportunity for little chunks of dirt to fall off their furry feet into the tub.

It was a mystery until today. I stood in the tub to close the window as there was a chill breeze coming through and I was about to draw water for my bath. When I did so, bits of dirt fell down. Then it occurred to me! The dirt was coming from years of accumulation in the ridge of the window ledge. Each time one of the cats leaped up there they were disturbing the "stuff"! It probably would never bother me much if my cats were outdoor cats, but my little pristine babies are white! Also, I just don't like the idea of them being exposed to that yucky stuff every day, not to mention my having to continually clean out the bath tub.

I grabbed the shower hose and began spraying the window. I really couldn't see exactly where to spray because I am barely tall enough to reach the window even to open or close it, and certainly not enough to look into the channel in which the windows slide back and forth.

I was so surprised how much dirt, dust and dried bug parts came floating down the wall tiles in the stream of water, even a living spider!!! good thing I'm not afraid of spiders. Can you picture the water spraying all over the bathroom as I run out screaming?

I continued to aim the spray until the drain got plugged. Uh oh! I hadn't thought of that! Once I got the drain unplugged I attacked the window again. More dirt!!! More plugged drain! Cold wet feet! Water dribbling down my arms to my elbows into the ends of my sleeves and ending up in my armpits. Ugh! But, I didn't quit until the water ran clear!

Housekeeping hint: When cleaning windows, check the windows along the ledges!!!

See Bambi's side of the story HERE.

Twilight is not a book

“For years I never knew whether the twilight was the ending of the day or the beginning of the night.

And then suddenly one day I understood that this did not matter at all.

For time is but a circle and there can be no beginning and no ending.

And this is how I came to know that birth and death are one. And it is neither the coming or going that is of consequence.

What is of consequence is the beauty that one gathers in this interlude called life”  ~~~ W.O. Abbott

Can't Take My Eyes off You

I won tickets to the concert 

creating art, representing 

Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.

Remember them?

Younger Sis went with me.

The crowd was screaming wild.

In the quiet of the last song,

I watched as Sis went down front

while he sang 

"Can't Take My Eyes off You"

I watched as he sang directly to her...

I watched as he bent down to her...

I watched as she reached up to him...

I watched as they kissed...

....Surreal

~~~

Note:
First photo was taken of my sister during that time period in our lives, and color enhanced by me to match the memories.
Second photo is a very close simulation of the winning art piece I turned in to WKBW radio station in Buffalo, NY. 

Is Dreaming of Book Disposal a Nightmare?

Today I took five boxes off to my long time favorite, Capitola Book Cafe where they will buy them or provide the opportunity to trade. Since the trade value will be higher than the cash offer, I have opted for trade.

Okay, Okay, I wasn't going to buy any more books! Was I? I even turned down the offer of two good reads last week staying true to my commitment to downsize, much to the distress of my friend. But here I am seeming like a hypocrite. But, really, I can justify trading 75 books for one really special book that I normally couldn't afford. Wouldn't you? They probably won't take them all and I will be left with the dilemma of having to find another place for the rejects.

I have friends who say, sell them, put them on Ebay, or trade them at paperbackswap.com.

That last one wont work out. Trading books one to one is not my idea of minimalizing. I am too averse to having a yard sale, so that is out of the question. Then, there are those who have said they would take some books off my hands. Yes, that's an idea. But, a part of me thinks I wouldn't be doing my friends any favors by adding to their overweight bookshelves. But, I will keep it in mind knowing that the argument might be: "why deprive them of what someone else will end up with in the long run?" I'm thinking about it...

Decisions, decisions, too many opportunities, not enough clarity. I'm leaning in all directions at once. In order to have some clarity I will have to sleep on it.

"To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub."

See related posts:

Related posts

Part 1: Overbooked

Part 2: Take Some Books Off My Hands

Today would have been her 21st Birthday

Keli Clementine

Beloved Friend

August 27 1989 to March 18 2009

Take Some Books Off My Hands

To be, or not to be: that is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the selling of books or take the easy way out of discarding them...

Of course there is the option of taking them to a bookstore that gives a pittance in trade-in value. Trade a hundred books for one thick volume of poetry? Is it worth my time to advertise on half.com, amazon or hope for some anxious buyers to vy for the right to bid a high price for my precious books, the books that have set on my shelves for so long waiting to be read? I'm sorry books! Really I am. But my commitment to making room in my life for emptiness is strong.

Wine boxes line one wall of my garage, loaded with various treasures. (I mean, junk.) This weekend I emptied 5 of them into a large bin, brought them in the house, nicely arranged 75 books inside and loaded them into the trunk of my car.

See related post
Part 1: Overbooked

Your Time is Now

'you know right from wrong, and you have the strength to always follow your heart, never forget that'.

Your time is now,

never hesitate,

trust yourself,

trust your mind,

your body and your soul.

You are everything

I could ever hope for you to be.

You're in my heart

and in my soul, now and forever,

Love,

Your Eternal Mother

~~~~~~~~
Note: Digital art created by Elizabeth Munroz

Zero

Zero...

Not only nothing,

But, the embryonic

Beginning

of existence.

From the Black Void

Zero was pregnant

with nothingness

And gave birth to

all.

~~~~~~~

note: digital art created by Elizabeth Munroz