Dreams.

My big corporate gig has me doing a lot of things that I’ve never done.  I took a “Strength Profile” that told me my number 1 strength is Empathy.  (Maybe this is why I couldn’t throw the mouse traps away this week. I felt too bad for them.)  I also completed a “Dream Manager” assessment, in which I had to write down all of my “dreams,” even those that have absolutely nothing to do with my professional career.  Evidently someone tipped off the Corporate World that employees no longer want to live and die their jobs, and that we all have lives outside of our 8-5. 

It was a little weird… writing down all of my personal, financial, spiritual, physical, and emotional “dreams” and sharing them with my coworkers.  But… it did get me motivated.  One of my “dreams” was to write a blog that people cared to read.  I don’t think that this blog will ever be really interesting to anyone, but maybe it’s a start to finding something that does. 

What does an interesting blog usually include?  Pictures.  Check out “The Pioneer Woman” blog.  Her pictures are fabulous.  I want to learn to take pictures like that.  So, I googled “Photography Classes.”  I clicked on the first link that popped up.  I signed up. 

Wow.  Maybe I like this whole Dream thing.

Secondly, I started to think about what I’d like to write about.  I thought of all the waiting rooms I go in and out of.  I see many, many, many sick people in a day.  I don’t mean sick with the flu or sick with a fever.  I mean physically crippled, diseased, unhealthy people.  Women in their 40s who are so overweight they are already utilizing a walker.  Men who can’t fit in a chair with arms because they are so large, so they have to find a chair without arms or otherwise stand and lean against a wall.  These are usually people who live in the smaller towns where less recreational things are offered, and grocery stores are much smaller and offer less “healthy” variety.  I wonder how this happened, because I actually felt as if I got healthier when I moved to a tiny country town. 

It makes me sad.  I look around and count the number of truly obese people vs. the number of patients who appear to be at a healthy weight.  It’s almost always at least 80% of the former.  I hate it for them.  I wonder why they are ALL so sick.  I wish that they could all wake up in my body, or Oatmeal’s body, for a day.  Not that we are perfectly healthy specimens and the envy of everyone around us, but we can move quickly without getting tired.  I want everyone to feel that way. 

There are usually signs on the doors that tell the patients that they MUST bring all of their current medications with them to their office visit.  Many of the people carry gallon-sized ziplocs containing dozens of pills.  I think of the multivitamin I take in the morning.  It’s a chewable, gummy vitamin.  I think of how much I would HATE to swallow so many actual pills every day.

Maybe because my mom has MS and can’t walk, it makes me realize how lucky I am.  I have both arms, both legs, no disease that I’m aware of. I can run, jump, do pushups, ride horses.  I can see.  I can hear.  I wish everyone could. I just looked at my toes and wiggled them.  I can.  I wish everyone could do that, too.

I finally get called back to talk to the doctor, and I visit with the nurse.  She’s probably, oh, 40lbs overweight.  She lost 30lbs last year, but has gained 10lbs back.  I ask her how she did it, telling her I was a nutrition major in school.  She tells me that she pretty much starved herself.  Well, she doesn’t use those words exactly, but she tells me what she eats in a day when she’s on her “diet.”  Cereal bar, fruit, frozen TV dinner, Slimfast shake.  I calculate it in my head real quickly… 800 calories?  Some of the other nurses are in the same boat.  I feel more sad.  They will do this their entire lives. 

I leave the waiting room.  The old ladies in the corner look at my legs and my high heels and say, “Honey, don’t trip wearing those shoes, you’ll break your leg.”  I smile at them, wondering if they used to wear 4 inch heels, too. 

I sell pharmaceutical drugs.  I believe that every drug in my bag works.  I absolutely do.  But I know, absolutely know in my heart, that if people knew how to take better care of themselves, if they had the resources to live a healthier life, that a lot of these people may not need my drugs.  Or maybe they would still need them, but perhaps they’d need them at 65 instead of 45. 

So, maybe one day I’ll figure out what I want to do to help.  Maybe it will be a part of my blog.  I’m still just brainstorming. 

Related posts:

About Lola

Leave a Reply