Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Life outside the bubble


It's certainly been an eventful week.  For days, we were glued to the TV, mesmerized by the situation unfolding in Boston.  At the same time, we were experiencing our own family drama, tending to my ill sister still cocooned in the hospital.  

It's been a few days where I've been thrust out of my "bubble," a term I adopted from a friend.  My friend says she lives in a "bubble" and kinda likes it that way.  In her "bubble" (at least right now), there is no illness, disease, poverty, and heartache.  Life is happy, she says sheepishly, why leave?

I can relate.

My bubble popped when my sister became ill.  I left my little, sweet slice of suburbia, where all my friends are young (relatively) and healthy, to visit my sister on the oncology unit.  The sights on her floor are depressing.  Mostly older individuals, shiny bald heads, sad eyes.  Grim looking visitors popping out of rooms and meandering down the hall in a daze.  On this floor, life doesn't revolve around whose kids are on the soccer team and what color a living room will be painting.  Life revolves around the sanctity and fragility of life.

My sister shares stories about her time in the hospital.  Code blues called during the night.  A woman weeping in the hallway; my sister says she just received dire news.  Patients sitting in hospital rooms alone seemingly without friends or family to visit.

My eyes are opened.  This is life outside the bubble.  I'm flooded with perspective and appreciation.  I realize life is only fully valued when seen outside the bubble.

Prayers welcome for my sister's surgery today!

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