Nice writing. When I was small a funeral cortège drove down our street. I got excited because all the cars had their headlights on and it was daytime. Why do they have their lights on? I asked mom. To honor the dead, she said, and I was struck by that, it seemed very reassuring, that every person who died got a car parade with headlights, it made me feel good about humans as a species.
"But the thing is that my patients start to look like me."
This line got me (tbh the whole piece did.) I work at a crisis call center and I too think of my death and advanced age every day. It's heavy work but good daily exercise to flex my imagination muscles, imagining different crisises and tribulations befalling me keeps my even-keeled and I think, dare I say, happier.
Thank you, Will. Your job must be one of the most challenging: to be privy to people's lives in their moments of desperation and raw vulnerability, to be so close to and also so far away from them. But I am happy that you are able to extract something positive out of it, only the bravest can.
Nice writing. When I was small a funeral cortège drove down our street. I got excited because all the cars had their headlights on and it was daytime. Why do they have their lights on? I asked mom. To honor the dead, she said, and I was struck by that, it seemed very reassuring, that every person who died got a car parade with headlights, it made me feel good about humans as a species.
That is a wonderful memory. We should all have a parade at some point in our life/death. Thank you for stopping by Sandra.
"But the thing is that my patients start to look like me."
This line got me (tbh the whole piece did.) I work at a crisis call center and I too think of my death and advanced age every day. It's heavy work but good daily exercise to flex my imagination muscles, imagining different crisises and tribulations befalling me keeps my even-keeled and I think, dare I say, happier.
Thank you, Will. Your job must be one of the most challenging: to be privy to people's lives in their moments of desperation and raw vulnerability, to be so close to and also so far away from them. But I am happy that you are able to extract something positive out of it, only the bravest can.
Well done! I will enjoy reading and sharing over time.
Thank you Dwana.
I have a lot to say about this subject as well. But I doubt I could say it better.
I would like to read it.
Good luck going "pro." I hope it works out for you and we get more of your work.
Thank you Kieran. I would like to write more often.