Well, hello there.
This morning, I began considering taking a different route to work, because in the past week I’ve been traumatized twice, and been made to feel as if the stretch of 494 by the airport is where I’m meant to learn everything there is to know about life and death. Last week, I was driving along and saw a large bird come swooping down and fly directly into the tire of the car in the right lane. It flopped into the center lane, still alive, flapping and struggling. A truck passed over it, and at that moment I was filled with the terror that bird must have felt, just trying to hold onto life, knowing it was over. It was horrifying, and I cried all the way to work. This morning, I was coming up on a trailer with a perpetually-unamusing ‘People Eating Tasty Animals’ sticker plastered across the top. I got closer, and saw it was full of cows obviously on their way to the slaughterhouse, which I pass in South St Paul on the way to work. As I passed, one of them lifted its head and looked right at me with those sad cow eyes, and again I wanted to die. You know, I became vegetarian for health reasons, but I see more and more ethical cause for it lately. People who think animals don’t have self-awareness are wrong. And so is taking a life, human or otherwise. So the doctor called with my final diagnosis last night, after consulting with the radiologist and the podiatrist and perhaps taking a week-long vacation in the Bahamas. She said I have a calcified Achilles tendon. Cool! I think. Anyway, she said I should avoid walking long distances, and overuse in general. She also advised me against participating in next year’s 3day event, as it would almost certainly land me in physical therapy. That’s ok, though. It helped me decide to do what I was planning on anyway: being on the crew. Jenn wants me to meet her for the event in Atlanta in September, and I’ll probably do the June one here, too. I’m going to check into volunteering at the Race for the Cure as well. Same foundation, which is completely awesome. My dad emailed last night to give the family the status report on my grandma’s surgery. He said everything went well, and that “there is no evidence YET that her surgeon left chewing gum, Star Wars action figures, or any piece from his Fisher-Price doctor kit inside Grandma. Stand by for updates.” So there you go. All is well! Good night.Jenni