When bad things happen to good people...
Today, much like any other day, I sat at my desk at work and alternately cursed my patients for being so doggone stupid; and got warm fuzzy feelings from the ones that are so sweet. I usually filter conversations through the mass of information that is sifting through my brain, and today, one thing stood out. Bomb at Boston Marathon. I immediately went to the computer to see what had occured, and the bottom of my stomach dropped to the floor. I saw images upon images of mangled bodies, tears, and first responders rushing to aid. I had traumatic flashbacks to the day, not so long ago, of watching the news following the Newtown shootings.
Something about this attack, just like the ones in Newtown, shook me to my very core. I couldn't help myself as I clicked through slideshow after slideshow of the carnage, tears running down my face. Why do these things happen? Why do pepole strike where they know their victims are the most vulnerable? Why can't I stop looking? Why am I sitting here crying, yet I can't look away?
I don't have an answer to those questions. I really don't. I guess many of us have a sort of macabre interest in tragedy, and we have sympathy for what the victims are going through. We breathe a sigh of relief that nobody we knew was involved, yet we ache for the pain those who are feel.
My son did something that really made me angry. He's pretty much effectively grounded until he learns to drive. I was so mad at him that I couldn't see straight. Yet I took one look at the news reports and saw that an 8 year old boy was among the dead, and that anger dissapated. I'm still mad, but I'm so grateful that he's home, and that he's safe. He's still grounded, but I did have to hug him tight, just for a moment longer than usual, because I needed that. I needed that hug, that human contact, that knowing that the people that I love are ok.
My thoughts and prayers are with the people involved in Boston, with the amazing first responders that were there, with the National Guardsmen that moved broken and twisted fencing off of bodies, with the police officers who ran into the chaos instead of away, with the paramedics who went to work today and had no idea what they had in store, with the amazing physicians and staff at all of the hospitals who work like hell to keep everyone alive; and grieve when they can't, to the runners who pushed their bodies to the limit and then immediately went to give blood, and to everyone who will be forever scarred by the cowardice and evil that human beings can perpetuate.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
Something about this attack, just like the ones in Newtown, shook me to my very core. I couldn't help myself as I clicked through slideshow after slideshow of the carnage, tears running down my face. Why do these things happen? Why do pepole strike where they know their victims are the most vulnerable? Why can't I stop looking? Why am I sitting here crying, yet I can't look away?
I don't have an answer to those questions. I really don't. I guess many of us have a sort of macabre interest in tragedy, and we have sympathy for what the victims are going through. We breathe a sigh of relief that nobody we knew was involved, yet we ache for the pain those who are feel.
My son did something that really made me angry. He's pretty much effectively grounded until he learns to drive. I was so mad at him that I couldn't see straight. Yet I took one look at the news reports and saw that an 8 year old boy was among the dead, and that anger dissapated. I'm still mad, but I'm so grateful that he's home, and that he's safe. He's still grounded, but I did have to hug him tight, just for a moment longer than usual, because I needed that. I needed that hug, that human contact, that knowing that the people that I love are ok.
My thoughts and prayers are with the people involved in Boston, with the amazing first responders that were there, with the National Guardsmen that moved broken and twisted fencing off of bodies, with the police officers who ran into the chaos instead of away, with the paramedics who went to work today and had no idea what they had in store, with the amazing physicians and staff at all of the hospitals who work like hell to keep everyone alive; and grieve when they can't, to the runners who pushed their bodies to the limit and then immediately went to give blood, and to everyone who will be forever scarred by the cowardice and evil that human beings can perpetuate.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
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