I was tasked with interpreting a very difficult conversation. It didnt start out that way. It started out actually kind of hilarious. First, I need to explain that mothers living with daughters is natural in my country of origin. We dont send our parents off to to be cared for by strangers. We keep them around, for the fun of it. So, I was leaving a no-show when I see an old woman and her daughter and ask if they are x. They were. They were very late (20 minutes) and I suspected they would not be seen but we walked slowly back into the building and, as we chatted, I was reminded of my Mexican world. It was fun. Yes, they would see her and as we waited, the conversation became familiar and we, all three, had a great time. Then, the unexpectedly difficult thing.... I could tell the older woman had Parkinsons. Her hand shook, she walked with difficulty. The appointment went very well. She was responding well to the medication. Everyone was pleased. Then, she asked How long before I am cured? And we all froze. The daughter looked at me as I conveyed the question in English the doctor, who looked at the daughter. Evidently, the condition had not been explained completely and so, doctor and daughter began speaking and I, in the middle, making certain all parties understood exactly what words were being said. The woman looked at me and then stared off for a moment, face-forward. After a moment, she looked back at all of us and smiled. Everything slows down when Important things are said. Like being told you are pregnant or that you are leaving your country or that someone you love is gone. There is a slow-motion quality that lasts a few minutes, as your heart records this moment you will re-live in snippets, wanting to or not. And so, we were a bit like zombies, finding a bathroom for the mother, checking out, walking away from from one another, after having intersected at a profound point in their lives. I was automatically a part of their narrative, a character in their story who had made them laugh with the story of my new ID bracelet and laughed with them about one of their young ones. The daughter said Everything feels better when you have been treated so well (in Spanish), because the doctor had taken such time and care and I think I did not feel like the stranger I could have been. On days when I feel truly down, when I wonder about my destiny or question my purpose, it feels that the whole of the universe unmasks my blindness. It is on those days especially, that I am shown how unexpectedly the real work of being human is put before us. I woke up as I frequently do, thinking I should be doing something more Important, bigger. I think that with my considerable brain-power and creative energy I should could be doing more and then, in an ugly little building where I am hand-santizing myself madly, thinking I cant get sick, I have to sing, just as I am wishing I was rehearsing or writing or spending time with my bshert, when I feel disappointed with myself for not being as great as my parents and my sons father, for not achieving what they did or have, I am given a gift. An invisible gift that you will not find when you google me, you will not see it in my net-worth, and will not be part of my appellation or title. Loving the people life puts in our path, or trying to, is a very real destiny. And over and over and over, as much as Id rather be Great, life shows me it is mine.
Posted on: Tue, 05 Aug 2014 18:33:14 +0000
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