Morning at the wards

I know my own writing by now. I've never purported to be a writer or have gone to school for writing or anything like that. (this first sentence is evidence of that) Still, I know my writing. I've read blogs that I've written in the past and even as short as a few weeks ago there was this light hearted silver lining to the post that I'd be basically spoon feeding the reader. Keep in mind that's a completely one sided view of the blog and there are many other facets to these stories.

I had a conversation with friends yesterday about the movie Castaway with Tom Hanks. Easily one of my favorite actors, and I would say that the movie although not one of my favorites of all time, was a great film. Friends here disagreed saying that some of the imagery was too forced. (Him being at a crossroads in life while standing literally at the cross of roads, the whale coming up to his raft and guiding him almost to safety)...I hadn't thought about it like that and I quite enjoyed those parts of the movie. So, I chalked it up to different strokes for different folks. Something that was a directorial choice that may or may not have been bantered with and that made it into the film. End of conversation.

How does that tie into this blog entry. I've just returned from the wards and although I recognize my writing style, something within me is continually changing when writing about that experience. It's unending rooms of sick children, mothers on the floor with infants, TB, HIV, a constant background noise of screams and the scent of urine mixed with rubbing alcohol, make it very difficult for me to have my typical "GI Joe, one to grow on" lesson/suggestion at the end of the blog. Maybe it's there, maybe it's not today. Maybe you the reader will be able to pull something out of this post, or I may be able to pull something out of my experience later, but right now other than applauding my friends Eric and Tammy, (the physicians who I followed today) that type of entry is very obviously lacking for me today. I just walked through 3 hours of pain. I was able to share a few smiles with some children, was offered lunch by one of the mothers, but basically suffering. There does not seem to be an end to the battle. I watched Eric attempt to drain the lungs of an 18 month old girl who's been in pain. Then we watched as one patient who's been in the ICU was struggling to breathe. You could see his abdomen and other muscles working overtime to try to get and keep air in. He's 3 months old. We didn't even get a chance to see Stella today. Stella had abdominal surgery and her wounds have become infected making it impossible for her to eat solid food. She's extremely malnourished. I haven't seen too much in the way of a hopeful situation, and numerous times had to choke down waves of emotion that are always there beneath the surface.

I've been very quite here. Friends and family who know me from home will say huh? Adam, quiet, he's usually very upbeat and outgoing. I don't feel that way. It feels really comfortable to be quiet here during this time. A girl who's just met me, told me last night, I've noticed that you're really good with the one on one conversation but that you tend to become quiet around large groups. Talk about a different view of how I saw myself and how others I feel have seen me in the past. Coming from being a young guy and the life of the party, (activity wise, there are other types of ways to be the life of the party) to now being seen as someone who's the quiet guy at the party. And to be honest, it feels really comfortable to me. Like I've always been this person on some level. Like the vision of me as the old guy in the rocking chair, (a visual that I've had of myself since I was a kid) was becoming a little clearer. I've had moments like this in the past but this is the first time I feel like it's lined up with how others are perceiving me and how I actually feel at the time. I do feel quiet. It feels like all those years when I would have bouts with a down day or a depressed mood and I wanted to be quiet,I'd say to myself..."alright you can be this way for a little bit but pretty soon it will be time to perk up again"...I thought "up" was where the happiness was.

I read a great article about a study that was done about happiness, vibrations and the ability to feel happiness. In short, most people assumed that someone who's upbeat, shows their emotions outwardly and looks happy or vibrates on a higher frequency has a much greater capacity to feel joy than someone who vibrates at a lower level. Because there are just people right, who vibrate at different frequencies. Some are high energy and outgoing, others are more internal and vibrating at a slower, lower energy. For happiness, the thought was faster, up was better, more chances at happiness. Well, anyway, the study basically found that there was no difference in how much happiness one could feel or experience regardless of whether or not they seemed to show classic signals of a "happy" person. That someone who was quiet and internalized a lot could experience happiness just as much as someone who was laughing, jumping for joy. Essentially no difference.

See, I was just going to continue to write another paragraph right there and tie up this post with some Adamisms and my personal slant. In other words, tie up this post with some nice ribbons, make it look pretty, happy and then think that I've really done all that I could do for you the reader to get something out of this post. And even writing this explanation I still kind of feel like I'm spoon feeding you to gleam something out of this post. Regardless, that's in my nature and I feel it will always be there which is a very good thing. No matter if I'm up, down, left, right....The only way to stop then is to stop. Stop.