I just can’t run any more.
Every six months I get blood drawn. No big deal, don’t worry I’m fine — just monitoring some key stuff. Anyhow, I hate it. I can’t stand needles nor the process. I’m rattled every time I get the notice from the Doc that “it’s time”. I delay until I get the second reminder, that’s how bad it is.
Driving over to the vampiric lab place I am always in a daze hoping for some urgent phone call that will have me going elsewhere.
Sitting in my distracted foreboding daze at a traffic light, I’m brought out of my stupor by a young woman rapidly knocking on my car window.
Out of breath, “I need to get home, my grandmother is dying. I just live up the street can I get a ride?”
I move the lab sheet from the passenger seat, “Are you OK?”
Still catching her breath, “I just can’t run any more.”
She lives three blocks up, if you drive in the Bay Area you know that each intersection has a traffic light. If you drive you know that when someone is in a hurry you will hit everyone red. She doesn’t put her seatbelt on (smart girl — note to teach that to my daughters).
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I just can’t run anymore.”
I ask about her Grandmother — 92yo, very close family, her Mom is distraught, full life, everything seems to be failing all at once.
She made it home in one piece. I wished her the best, thoughts for her family and off she went, able to run again.
Sometimes we just can’t run anymore. Great to be there when someone can’t.
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