perspective

A friend of mine was a Drill Sergeant in the Army, serving two tours of duty in Iraq. Another member of his family also served, but is now in the hospital with pneumonia. His treatment and recovery are complicated by his HIV status. While a "normal" person typically has a T-cell count between 700-1400., today his CD4 (T-cell) count dropped below 40.

The massive amount of antibiotics administered took two nurses to carry due to the weight of the material. And while I'm not certain of the name of the medicine, he told me it is some sort of naturally occurring substance in the body that without it causes blindness. The nurses wore thick, lead-lined gloves while starting the treatment.

He went on to tell me that everyone in the family is taking turns visiting him in the hospital...expect his father. An ex-Army officer, his father refuses to accept his son's lifestyle and subsequent HIV status. They haven't spoken in almost twenty years. My friend continues to try and explain that he is running out of time to make amends; that his son is going to pass soon, and with that passing goes any opportunity for apologies or atonement. And yet, his father won't budge. He will not even call and speak to his son in the hospital.

Somehow, this makes my brother canceling on us at Thanksgiving that much less significant...

Life teaches us lessons in surprising, yet opportunistic ways. Most of the time, we miss them because we are distracted by something seemingly more important.

Today, for instance, I spoke with one of my colleagues, who explained that I've become the scapegoat for many of the things going on at my former company. My response was, "Well...yeah. That's one of the reasons I left: they are more concerned with assigning blame than finding solutions." Fault is always passed to those who move on, absolving those left behind of any responsibility.

Later, I found myself reflecting on our conversation and realized I was getting defensive, trying to figure out what I could have done differently to avoid the outcome. Never mind the fact that I've been gone for seven months. Never mind that my decisions were based on the cards I had at the time, and a new deck was played after I left. Never mind the job I left for has more responsibility, better hours, higher salary, and actual opportunities for advancement. In so many words, "Why the f**k do I care?!"

And then I saw a commercial for the Army, which reminded me of my friend and his family. Suddenly, a lot of emotions and rationalizations fell into place. It's amazing how quickly our priorities can get shuffled.