Life Lessons
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The Red Door
I walked through the glass doors into the cosmetics department, where the elegant sales ladies holding perfume bottles lined the way. Closing time was twenty minutes away. I had no time to waste, so I walked hurriedly, avoiding any eye contact. “Would you like a sample?” A hand came out of nowhere and placed a piece of white paper in my hand. “Let me know what you think. It’s on sale this weekend.” I smiled at the sales lady, thanked her graciously, and looked around for a trash can. My nose caught a whiff of the fragrance as I was about to throw it away. Suddenly I was transported…
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The Longest Day of my Life
“You need to come back for additional testing…” The words on that page hit my heart like daggers. It was a letter from the doctor’s office that offered no further explanation. I called the number as quickly as my fingers could push the buttons on my phone and got a recording. I left a message hoping for a quick response. Questions popped in my mind like thought bubbles over cartoon characters. What if it’s something bad? What if I die? Is it something I’m eating? What will happen to my children? My mind raced to all the people I knew who were fighting the battling with cancer or had already…
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The Other Side of Medicine
Doctors train for many years to treat and cure people. They thrive from watching patients get well and spend most of their adult lives pouring their time and energy for the welfare of others. As the wife of a doctor, I am on the other side of medicine, the family side. I lived through the sleepless nights and the never-ending days of training. Throughout many years I’ve experience waking up in the middle of the night to the ear-piercing sound of a pager, or the incessant ringing of the phone. I listen to his concerns about patients and witness his headaches after night shifts. He’s rarely present at school activities…
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Running the Race
When I entered my forties, I determined to give myself a challenge to celebrate the beginning of “the second half of my life,” so I signed up to run a half-marathon. I had no idea how to achieve it, so I researched about it, which introduced me to terms that were like a foreign language: speed work, tempo, and long runs. The local paper advertised a group run every Saturday morning, and I decided to join it. I awakened extra early for the first run and dressed comfortably in my daughter’s PE shorts and t-shirt. I grabbed an old, chunky iPod abandoned in a kitchen drawer along with my son’s…
