Wishful hallucination
As I hurriedly eat my lunch of microwave-warmed brown rice, I think about how sheltered my life has been. It was first instilled by nurture, and then over time, naturally became my own choice.We had some friends over to play tennis last night, and afterwards had a casual dinner of grilled hotdogs and hamburgers by the pool. As I was getting to know/entertaining one of these new friends, I described how absolutely appalled I was earlier that day when a child had been admitted to our neurosurgery service, after which he tested positive for an illicit drug. He was a mere eleven years old. All sorts of judgmental thoughts briefly passed through my conscientiously conscious mind: what kind of neglectful parents did he have, how society just doesn’t promote ethics and values like it used to, and wondering just how many tattoos he was hiding underneath the requisite baggy pre-teen clothing. Thankfully, I had the scant sense to not voice these thoughts to our guest, because he looked at me with a twinge of awkwardness, and admitted that he himself had dabbled in a few drugs over 30 years ago back in his primary school days. Humbled, I also turned a few shades of pink and changed the subject quickly. I’m not sure what surprised me more, but I have a sinking sense that it stems from, and ends with me, and the lifestyle that I choose to lead.
posted by Sheila @ 5/16/2008 04:01:00 PM
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