My Sunday Prayer
First of all, my thoughts are with the family and friends of Jennings Chestnut who just passed away after a brief illness. I did not know him, but he was one of the mainstays of the Myrtle Beach bluegrass scene and knew a lot of my friends. A number of my buddies are down there today, but I had commitments at home and couldn’t leave. My heart is with them though.
After a day as an amateur lumberjack I am reflective. I am lucky to be a doc because sometimes I am allergic to real work. I gotta let you in a secret though. Most docs, me included, are driven for perfection in an impossible business beyond what is healthy.
I think it is why I identify with the fine artists I have been so fortunate to know. Compared to them I am a hack player. I have not given it what they have and do not deserve to play at that level. At the same time, I have some inkling of their mind. When someone in the crowd comes up and asks a virtuoso player if they know ‘Turkey in the Straw’ I almost want to shake them.
It’s the same way in medicine for me. If someone wants to serve up a simplistic notion to address a complicated problem I not only won’t go along, but can get downright mean over it. My nurses have been with me twenty-five years and can see it coming every time. They just laugh and go along, because they know it is hopeless to change old Doc now.
They are smarter than me. They know in the end we are all out of here, it is all in God’s hands, and there really isn’t anything I can do about it. But the human part of me can’t quit trying any more than the artists I know who seek unattainable perfection.
How ’bout y’all saying a prayer for Doc? I hope I might do my best to find my kind and gentle side when I deal with people who aren’t cursed with the drive that propels a man to search for what is not possible.
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