I will no longer...or for a while... be using blogger...my blog has moved to:
http://emilyannmoriarty.tumblr.com/
enjoy...and as always,
Bon Appetit!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Coping with Life and Death
Two posts in one day?!?!? What is wrong with me?
Well, the last post had to be its own post. It should have been posted last week, but I didn't get around to it.
As for this post...
Shortly after speaking with the old man, and being enlightened to the wonders of life, I had to cope with death.
Before you start asking me who died, I will spoil the ending: two of our fish.
You may be thinking, "Emily, it was just a fish...are you really going to dedicate a post to it?"
Well, sort of.
Lucy, Amanda's silver Molly, had gotten "Broken-Swim-Bladder". Basically, fish have this thing called a swim bladder, when it breaks the fish pretty much becomes paralyzed in its rear half of its body. Also, the swim bladder helps keep the fish from floating. So, Lucy was bent in a ninety degree angle and kept unintentionally floating to the top.
I spent twenty minutes on the phone with PetCo. She said there is no evidence that BSB is painful for the fish. Some die within forty-eight hours some live a much longer time. She told me most people put the fish out of their misery though.
I understood why. Looking at Lucy: Bent, fighting to stay down at the bottom of the tank, swimming sideways with only the use of her front fins. It was devastating.
At the same time, our Pleco, Julius Caesar was having similar problems. He wasn't bent, but was having trouble staying stuck to the sides of the tank.
I offered to scoop and flush the two, because Amanda couldn't bear to watch. I, at the time, was doing alright.
I tried getting them in the net at the same time, but it wasn't working out. I got Caesar first and went and plopped him in the toilet. I didn't flush it, because we wanted them to go down together. So, I went back for Lucy.
Once netted, I headed back to the bathroom. Caesar was gone. He swam down all by himself. I dropped Lucy in and flushed.
We are down to three fish, from six.
I thought I was ok with this.
A little while later I called my mom to have a normal routine conversation. It came up that we had some issues with the fish and it hit me.
All of the sudden I was struck by emotion. Not the fact that our Fish were gone...but the circumstances in which it happened. I had to flush two LIVE fish. Two of God's living creatures. That was one thing to grasp. I realized it was for their own good soon after and that's when the big one hit me.
As I watched her try to swim, try to live, I felt so helpless. A living creature that was dying and there was nothing I could do. It was so devastating, and this all hit me when I was describing what happened to my mom. And then the waterworks started.
Ok, so I can point all the emotional sappy stuff to hormones....if you catch my drift....
But this is the first time I have had to watch something die. First William Sharkspeare and then Caesar and Lucy. All three fought to live and fought to die. And I was witness to all. It may have only been fish, but I watched them all die and could do nothing about it. You would think I could handle the death of a fish, being that I have had to cope with larger issues in life....but this really had an effect on me.
I am no longer as hormonal as I was, which I'm sure contributed to the series of events.
I'm pretty sure all has passed, considering I ate a whole package of Goldfish with no problem....
I am just finding it interesting that I have been paying more attention to the small but significant aspects of life recently. More importantly, not intentionally it's just happening. What is this a sign of? Well, we will just have to see.
Until then,
Bon Appetit
Well, the last post had to be its own post. It should have been posted last week, but I didn't get around to it.
As for this post...
Shortly after speaking with the old man, and being enlightened to the wonders of life, I had to cope with death.
Before you start asking me who died, I will spoil the ending: two of our fish.
You may be thinking, "Emily, it was just a fish...are you really going to dedicate a post to it?"
Well, sort of.
Lucy, Amanda's silver Molly, had gotten "Broken-Swim-Bladder". Basically, fish have this thing called a swim bladder, when it breaks the fish pretty much becomes paralyzed in its rear half of its body. Also, the swim bladder helps keep the fish from floating. So, Lucy was bent in a ninety degree angle and kept unintentionally floating to the top.
I spent twenty minutes on the phone with PetCo. She said there is no evidence that BSB is painful for the fish. Some die within forty-eight hours some live a much longer time. She told me most people put the fish out of their misery though.
I understood why. Looking at Lucy: Bent, fighting to stay down at the bottom of the tank, swimming sideways with only the use of her front fins. It was devastating.
At the same time, our Pleco, Julius Caesar was having similar problems. He wasn't bent, but was having trouble staying stuck to the sides of the tank.
I offered to scoop and flush the two, because Amanda couldn't bear to watch. I, at the time, was doing alright.
I tried getting them in the net at the same time, but it wasn't working out. I got Caesar first and went and plopped him in the toilet. I didn't flush it, because we wanted them to go down together. So, I went back for Lucy.
Once netted, I headed back to the bathroom. Caesar was gone. He swam down all by himself. I dropped Lucy in and flushed.
We are down to three fish, from six.
I thought I was ok with this.
A little while later I called my mom to have a normal routine conversation. It came up that we had some issues with the fish and it hit me.
All of the sudden I was struck by emotion. Not the fact that our Fish were gone...but the circumstances in which it happened. I had to flush two LIVE fish. Two of God's living creatures. That was one thing to grasp. I realized it was for their own good soon after and that's when the big one hit me.
As I watched her try to swim, try to live, I felt so helpless. A living creature that was dying and there was nothing I could do. It was so devastating, and this all hit me when I was describing what happened to my mom. And then the waterworks started.
Ok, so I can point all the emotional sappy stuff to hormones....if you catch my drift....
But this is the first time I have had to watch something die. First William Sharkspeare and then Caesar and Lucy. All three fought to live and fought to die. And I was witness to all. It may have only been fish, but I watched them all die and could do nothing about it. You would think I could handle the death of a fish, being that I have had to cope with larger issues in life....but this really had an effect on me.
I am no longer as hormonal as I was, which I'm sure contributed to the series of events.
I'm pretty sure all has passed, considering I ate a whole package of Goldfish with no problem....
I am just finding it interesting that I have been paying more attention to the small but significant aspects of life recently. More importantly, not intentionally it's just happening. What is this a sign of? Well, we will just have to see.
Until then,
Bon Appetit
The Pharmacy and the Old Man
Earlier in the month, I had a routine trip to the doctor to discuss the recent blood tests on my Thyroid. Turns out, I went from having HYPO-thyroidism to HYPER-thyroidism... Don't ask me how. Basically, the doctor is lowering my dose of medication. [one of the long term side effects, which unfortunately isn't reversible, is the popping of one's eyes....I don't need that to happen to me...picture it, come on, picture it....there it is. Yeah, can't happen]
They have a pharmacy right in the office, so I went on over. Turns out the computers were being slow and the prescription had yet to transfer over. So, I took a seat.
A few minutes later and old man sits a few seats down from me... Here is where our story begins...
"You go to ASU?" the old man asked upon noticing my ASU t-shirt and bag.
"I do" was all I could muster up.
"Thirty Thousand people go there. How crazy is that?"
"Actually it's more than that" there are over seventy thousand.
"Thirty Three thousand, and that's just the students" he proclaimed.
"Yes, it's a big school"
"My son went there. After he graduated he went to Johns Hopkins and became a doctor. Yep, my son's a doctor. I cannot believe my oldest son is in his sixties. I turn eighty seven this year" he trailed off and stared out nostalgically.
"That's remarkable" is all I could say
After a moment the Old Man turned back to me and continued with our conversation, "I used to make planes and missiles."
"Is that so?"
"I never went to college, and I made planes. I did school through the mail. They would send me a book. I would answer the questions and do the exercises and mail the book back. Then they would send me another. I had to draw the parts of the plane to scale. Some to the hundredths of an inch. Hundredths of an inch!"
"Wow"
"What are you studying?"
"Theatre."
"What?" he leans in closer.
I spoke slightly louder, "Theatre."
"If I had to go back, that's what I would do."
"Really?!"
"I used to make planes and missiles. I had to draw the parts of a plane to the hundredths of an inch."
"That's remarkable"
"The metal we used, it was the strongest metal in the world. But it would still bend under the pressure of the engine. After so many flights we would have to replace it. The strongest metal in the world...but it would bend."
"Wow"
"Now I am a self made artist. I love the beach. I found a shell and drew a bird on it, carved it out and now" he pulls a necklace from his shirt "I wear it around my neck."
"That's beautiful" and it was.
"Here. I want you to have this."
He hands me an object, still not quite sure what it is, made of pipe cleaners and beads.
"Thank you."
The pharmasist informs him that his prescription will not be ready until the next day at noon.
"I'm free?! Until noon tomorrow anyway."
He then turned back to me..."Good luck with your theatre thing. You have to looks for it." He turns and starts to walk out.
After a few seconds he turns back, "I hope you have the talent to match." He turned around and left.
"Me too mystery old man, me too."
Shortly after, the pharmacist called me up and gave me my prescription. I left, holding the token the old man gave me.
Most of the time, we avoid strangers...I mean, that's what we are told to do when we are younger. It is different as you get older though. You get less concerned about being kidnapped and more concerned with not being bothered. I must admit, when I saw the man look over at me, I was hoping he would keep to himself. I'm glad he didn't. Although we only talked for about ten minutes, I felt the Lord's presence in this man. I felt human. Humbled. He teared up when he was talking about his son's accomplishments and the fact that he is still alive to see his son venture into his sixties and the old man himself into his eighties. I take so much for granted. Those ten minutes opened my eyes to the simple wonders of life, and how important it is to never overlook them. Thank you Mystery Old Man.
In the words of a kind stranger, "It was the hardest metal, but it still would bend."
Life is full of turbulence but the tough stuff can still be bent.
Bon Appetit
They have a pharmacy right in the office, so I went on over. Turns out the computers were being slow and the prescription had yet to transfer over. So, I took a seat.
A few minutes later and old man sits a few seats down from me... Here is where our story begins...
"You go to ASU?" the old man asked upon noticing my ASU t-shirt and bag.
"I do" was all I could muster up.
"Thirty Thousand people go there. How crazy is that?"
"Actually it's more than that" there are over seventy thousand.
"Thirty Three thousand, and that's just the students" he proclaimed.
"Yes, it's a big school"
"My son went there. After he graduated he went to Johns Hopkins and became a doctor. Yep, my son's a doctor. I cannot believe my oldest son is in his sixties. I turn eighty seven this year" he trailed off and stared out nostalgically.
"That's remarkable" is all I could say
After a moment the Old Man turned back to me and continued with our conversation, "I used to make planes and missiles."
"Is that so?"
"I never went to college, and I made planes. I did school through the mail. They would send me a book. I would answer the questions and do the exercises and mail the book back. Then they would send me another. I had to draw the parts of the plane to scale. Some to the hundredths of an inch. Hundredths of an inch!"
"Wow"
"What are you studying?"
"Theatre."
"What?" he leans in closer.
I spoke slightly louder, "Theatre."
"If I had to go back, that's what I would do."
"Really?!"
"I used to make planes and missiles. I had to draw the parts of a plane to the hundredths of an inch."
"That's remarkable"
"The metal we used, it was the strongest metal in the world. But it would still bend under the pressure of the engine. After so many flights we would have to replace it. The strongest metal in the world...but it would bend."
"Wow"
"Now I am a self made artist. I love the beach. I found a shell and drew a bird on it, carved it out and now" he pulls a necklace from his shirt "I wear it around my neck."
"That's beautiful" and it was.
"Here. I want you to have this."
He hands me an object, still not quite sure what it is, made of pipe cleaners and beads.
"Thank you."
The pharmasist informs him that his prescription will not be ready until the next day at noon.
"I'm free?! Until noon tomorrow anyway."
He then turned back to me..."Good luck with your theatre thing. You have to looks for it." He turns and starts to walk out.
After a few seconds he turns back, "I hope you have the talent to match." He turned around and left.
"Me too mystery old man, me too."
Shortly after, the pharmacist called me up and gave me my prescription. I left, holding the token the old man gave me.
Most of the time, we avoid strangers...I mean, that's what we are told to do when we are younger. It is different as you get older though. You get less concerned about being kidnapped and more concerned with not being bothered. I must admit, when I saw the man look over at me, I was hoping he would keep to himself. I'm glad he didn't. Although we only talked for about ten minutes, I felt the Lord's presence in this man. I felt human. Humbled. He teared up when he was talking about his son's accomplishments and the fact that he is still alive to see his son venture into his sixties and the old man himself into his eighties. I take so much for granted. Those ten minutes opened my eyes to the simple wonders of life, and how important it is to never overlook them. Thank you Mystery Old Man.
In the words of a kind stranger, "It was the hardest metal, but it still would bend."
Life is full of turbulence but the tough stuff can still be bent.
Bon Appetit
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