Thursday Was Not The Reminder I Wanted

Friday morning I woke at 5am.

And it occurred again today, albeit, this time, slightly past 5am (thank you circadian rhythm).

It’s one thing to know that time is finite — that life can change in the blink of an eye. It’s another to see it happen in real time to someone you care about.

When my friend and colleague experienced a medical emergency at work on Thursday, my mind worked to process the news, passing through what I imagine are normal stages of disbelief:

I just spoke with him thirty minutes ago.

We were laughing about losing our voices earlier this morning.

Did he feel any pain?

This can’t be real.

I slogged through the remainder of work, my mind straining to balance patient needs with reading colleague texts and my own racing thoughts

Is this real?

What hospital did they take him to? How long will he be there?

Are his cats going to be alright? Who will take care of them?

I don’t have many answers, to be honest — a fact that feels disappointing but real. I was able to visit him in the hospital Friday afternoon, bringing some cat stickers and a little orange stuffed cat (the guy likes cats, alright?). He looked good, which was a relief. But he is changed. And although it is not my load to bear, I feel heavy.

I have hope that he will make a full recovery, that he will be able to return to work, share his jokes (so witty I only understood them after a five-second pause), and say our favorite phrase to each other, “c’mon man!”.

But I won’t be there to see that happen. Work finishes for me in two weeks. And I leave for France three weeks after that. He won’t be back before that.

I don't have a tidy thought to conclude on. I'm just sitting here with the weight of what has occurred in the past two days — the relief that he looked good in the hospital, the physical ache of knowing I won't be there for whatever comes next, and the uncomfortable reminder that now is the only thing any of us actually have. In thirty-nine days I leave for France. I've told myself a hundred times that part of why I'm going is because life is short and I refuse to wait. Thursday was not the reminder I wanted. But it was the one I got. And that's all there is.

Hi, I’m Abbie. I’m currently a psychiatric nurse practitioner in the United States and am in the process of closing my private practice in preparation for a move to France this summer. I’m living out my dream: move to France, be a photographer.