Since
becoming ill the thought that crosses my mind often as I watch the world is how
that world just continues to whirl by, doesn't skip a beat, doesn't know I'm
ill. I come into contact with people on
a daily basis who, if they are told I'm ill will say "wow you look
great." Is that proof of the old
saw "you can't judge a book by its cover?"
Case
in point. I'll admit it. I am an avid public voyeur, a people
watcher. I'm totally fascinated by
watching, wondering and surmising what a particular persons story is. Recently I've had far more opportunity to participate in that strange past time that
is people watching.
A
month or so ago I physically lost my ability to drive. Boy there's a privilege you shouldn't take
for granted, that driving thing. My ace
team of oncologists neurosurgeons and neurologist don't really seem to know why
I can't feel various parts of my lower extremities. Which not only is that loss of feeling
disconcerting, but the fact that those folks aren't' sure what's going on makes
it that much more disconcerting. These
are some smart people I'm talking about.
Anyway, they think it has something to do with radiation, bone, and the
fact I seem to always fall into that 2% rarity percentile. Be that as it may I'm unable to drive but can
still walk.
Not
being able to drive very early each morning my wife is kind enough to deliver
me to the light rail platform so I can make the commute in to the office. Some mornings I'm a bit early for my train
but too late for the one before. On one
of these mornings not too long ago was the first time I noticed the man.
The
man was sitting on one of the transit benches that reality dictates be designed
for cold discomfort. Knees pressed
together, back straight he's clutching a bouquet. On this day the bouquet is roses. I move on down the platform industriously
checking my emails on my "phone that is smarter than me" and he
passes from my attention.
As
my train leaves the platform and I peer out the window I see the man, bouquet
in hand, walking down the sidewalk. How
odd. He didn't get on the train at all.
I
see the man at the platform a few times after that first odd encounter. Primly sitting on the autumn cold bench,
clutching a bouquet and waiting. Waiting
for what I had assumed was to board the train and each time that assumption
vanished as I peered out the window from my passing train and watched the man
march purposely down the sidewalk, bouquet in hand.
I
don't see the man everyday as I don't arrive at the platform the same time
everyday and on other days I don't go to the platform at all. Today however, the world conspired to deliver
this public voyeur more information.
I
happened to arrive just as a train pulled in.
The man rose from today's decidedly Autumn cold bench clutching a
bouquet of out of season Daffodils. He
timed his rise from the bench perfectly to coincide with the opening of the
train doors. There he stood, waiting,
standing, the bouquet now clutched in a hand thrust toward the now open and
very empty train doors.
Somehow
as I waded through traffic and made my way up onto the platform I lost sight of
the man. As I approached the now
unoccupied bench there were Daffodils like a bright yellow splash across the
bench. The man? No where in sight.
Perhaps
at some point today the man will either rudely or accidentally let the store
door close in your face. Perhaps he will
accidentally or purposely cut you off on the free way. The world speeds on and just like the world
doesn't know I'm sick we don't know, by looking, what the state of the person
next to us is or what they are going through.
I
work real hard now to keep this in mind when someone is rude or cuts in line or
any of the myriad of things that used to just piss me off. Their day or life could be going much much
worse than mine.
