Mar
21
Just a quick note about my little friend at the top of the page. It is a Saban Anole. There are many different kinds of Anoles in the world, but this type is unique to Saba. Monday morning last week I was enjoying the beautiful morning weather when I noticed this little critter in a bucket we use to capture condensation from our air conditioner. At a first glance, I thought it was dead. I nudged the bucket and it started moving, (I actually think it’s a female . . . so I’ll call it a she). I was amazed how she was just floating . . . trying to keep her nose above the water. I imagine she had been there for quite a while. She must have been trying to leap from one surface to another when she lost footing and did a swan dive into our little bucket. The overnight temperatures right now are dipping to a chilly 70 degrees Fahrenheit. Being a cold blooded creature she was getting pretty lethargic in that nippy water. I started to pour out the water to save my new little friend. Once she hit the ground, she just sat there . . . motionless. I reached down to see if she’d run away, like they normally do, but she actually crawled up on my hand. Then, I tried to get her to crawl onto the railing in the sun so she could warm up, but she wouldn’t move. I placed her on the railing and decided to take advantage of a perfect Kodak moment.
I was able to get many close-up pictures of her, but something seemed to be amiss. She was moving slower and slower and although she was getting warmer, she wasn’t becoming more alert. I became concerned for her and tried to find a nice spot for her to convalesce. I came back in a few minutes and she hadn’t moved. In fact, I was unable to detect any breathing which had been previously evident. My heart sank. All the knowledge I’ve been gaining in medical school couldn’t help her live. I started thinking about how long she must have spent in the bucket of water . . . trying to get out with all her might. Draining from her muscles every last molecule of energy. I imagine I’d do the same thing finding myself in a similar situation.
These thoughts made me think about situations I will encounter as a future physician. If not in my practice, I will encounter death during my clinical rotations. Death is a large part of medicine. We do everything we can to push it back as far as possible. We learn and study about how the body functions from the smallest known particle through the interactions of humans and the world around them. One more day. One more week. One more month. One more year. Life expectancy has certainly increased in the United States, but one thing is certain. Everyone will eventually check out of this life. I’ve often heard the phrase, “. . . the only things constant in life are death and taxes.” A true statement, but it still doesn’t make the transition any easier. Nobody can explain to you what it will feel like to die. Where you will be focusing your attention and thoughts when death is knocking on your door. Although, I imagine I’ll be thinking about my loved ones . . . which reminds me of another trite expression. “When you’re lying on your death bed, I doubt you’ll be wishing you spent more time at the office,” . . . or working on your hobby . . . or watching more TV. It may be trite, but I’d imagine it can’t be too far off base. I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . take a few minutes and think about your life. Stop whatever you’re doing and ask yourself, “What is really important?” Is it your status at the office? Is it how you compare to your neighbors? Is it what you do and don’t have in your possession? We’ll all be a little better off if we appreciate the things we have and express our gratitude to those who mean the most in our lives. Enjoy where you are and slow down a few notches. The world is passing by far too quickly, and the journey can be truly amazing!
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