whether or not it’s merited, let me explain “virtual obscurity.” While most everybody is relatively obscure, we are born alone and we die alone, o-bla-di-bla-da, and amongst the hoi polloi most are at least somewhat alone, certainly alone when typing thoughts into a forum box, although there are still the friends and colleagues that we, the peops, work and play with. Yes? Some more, some less, it’s the rhythms of the social order. But when you find yourself oh…uh…well…how to explain…people who get sick or are entrenched in partnership with someone who, for no fault of their own, gets cancer (cancer that probably has very little to do with their life choices but is instead an affectation of the dirty state of the industrialized planet) the term obscurity takes on a vivid new definition. What goes on in that big white multi-billion dollar structure fully fronted with marble and all the buttons and bows of Caesar’s biggest arrogance, is the silent obscurity of people wandering crowded halls alone …or puking up their breakfast in little unpainted Kentucky Fried Chicken buckets, …or else they are in white or blue ...or green scrubs and part of that internal machine, bub, or the looong...white...coat...that denotes a well earned compote of grandiose n browbeat by way of the superior sciences. The inlet betwixt healer and the sick, bridged to some extent by one or two whom enter the room. Turn your head …then cough. But a worthwhile tradeoff, no doubt, for what we hope is the world’s most excellent remedy. Here in this complex extremity apart from society. &, just as no race car driver can be seen spending much time at the hospital or at the home of convalescence with a fellow driver injured in action, neither can good friends and colleagues be expected to hold up under the long term protocol of a friend’s treatment. Their good love is strong and brief, then tapered down to something that is known but mostly not communicated. Life goes on. The ill and their caregivers go into hiding. Obscurity . . . is inevitable. It ain’t nothing to whine about, …but it is what it is. …& so, the monologue.
be well
Addendum: Thank you, Doctor, (not for your expert detachment but) for your objective luminosity.
