sadness
you crept up on me
amongst a sea of moonlit yellow daffodils
i became silent
and others noticed
wondering why?
what is behind this sad face?
this face that hides all
and no one knows about the tears
you cause me to ache
my heart beats painfully
my heart rhythm is melodious
melancholy
but it wants the harmony
from years before
sadness
you crept up on me
amongst a sea of moonlit yellow daffodils
Today, I walked into a near empty office. I opened my door slowly, bracing for what the paint job would look like. It was beautiful. Aleyda and I decided on a lighter shade of yellow for the office, and I went to Home Depot and picked a shade called Moonlit Yellow. It was exactly how I imagined. Not too many people would automatically pick yellow for the office, but I think it goes so well.
I locked the door, and I did a dance in my empty office to commemorate the occasion. Don’t ask me why, but when I am feeling momentous, The Sound of Music always comes to mind. I imagined myself as Julie Andrews, surrounded by Moonlit Yellow daffodils, on a hilltop singing, “The hills are alive….with the Sound of Music!” It came complete with the twirl, if you are wondering.
I walked over to the two exam rooms and looked out the windows. Our office faces north so I could see the traffic flowing on 23rd St. and the Flatiron Building adjacent to me. I opened my own office door and the color Shrimp Toast greeted me. Trust me when I say that I’m not a girly girl, but I’ve always wanted a salmon pink room since I was a child. Now I have it!
When it comes to me and my sister, I am definitely the more competitive one. Growing up together, if she had one scoop of ice cream, I had to have two. If she had two lollipops, I had to have three. We were never competitive about boys, and we love each other fiercely, but when it comes to the silly things in life, I feel that I have to top one over my sister. Recently, this has manifested as an all-out Facebook Poke War. Everyday, we poke each other. Sometimes we poke each other twice. Each has declared that we will “poke” the other one out.
Here are some actual Facebook postings about the pokings:
Soma’s Post: Little sisters can definitely be dangerous and take away your Wimbledon title. (Referring to Serena William’s win over sister Venus).
Soma at 10:45 AM July 4: But I WILL have the last poke!
Shreya at 10:00 AM July 5 OH NO YOU WON’T! I POKE YOU INFINITY CUBED!!!!! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH! and yes, be very very scared…
Soma at 10:09 AM July5 I will get Zia on my side and together we will make a big poker and poke you out of this universe!
Shreya at 10:11 AM July 5 First of all, it is a bit pathetic that you need someone else to poke me out of the world with you. Also, I already beat you to the punch since “INFINITY” has all that territory covered 
Soma at 10:15 AM July 5 Oh you think you’re so smart with the infinity trump. It’s so old world physics. I’m going to ace you with my string theory poke. MU HUAHUAHUAHUA!
Shreya at 10:16 AM July 5 I’m shaking in my boots!
I’m still in the process of setting up my new office. Painting, getting exam tables and furniture delivered, to name a few things.
Patients I don’t even know yet have called me to tell me they “just dropped by” because they wanted to see me. One left a message, “Oh and by the way, you have a lovely new space. But I realized that you weren’t there yet because it’s completely empty!” I chuckled when I heard this and then recalled my first office, a dingy room I rented from an eccentric chiropractor who drove me nuts. My first day there, I had one scheduled patient, and I twiddled my thumbs for the remainder of the day.
My sister had told me back then, that at some point, things will be very different. And here it is.
I have my struggles, as does everyone in life, and there are a few things I wish I could have in my life. But I am blessed.
As I finished my last day at my Fifth Avenue office, I moved the few remaining items out of my office. I parked my car across the street and rushed to get my computer, ekg machine, gowns, drape sheets and remaining lab supplies into the car. I carted things down and a gust of air suddenly blew all my papers gowns and drape sheets all over Fifth Avenue. It was an amazing sight! Imagine a whirlwind of blue and white!
I realized the depth of New Yorkers when I watched strangers scurrying around to capture the gowns and sheets, even when I kept shouting that it didn’t really matter. What I was really scared about that a cop would arrest me for littering and I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. I frantically emptied the cart into my car, and hurried around trying to pick up whatever I could.
Certainly moving is such a stressful moment, but I can honestly say that it has been filled with laughter as well. Sure, it’s been difficult to coordinate patient care during the move. My threshold has been lowered and it’s been hard to deal with complaining patients, but I’ve also been rewarded by great patients who have been very supportive during the move. I’ve been blessed with a great medical assistant who is my right arm.
As I loaded the last load, I noticed I had ten minutes to spare. My municipal parking ticket was valid until 4:50 PM. I sat in the car, rested my head back and just took a deep breath. Suddenly the rain started, and I was reveling in the pellets of rain that were hitting the car, which acted as an impenetrable shield. I was surrounded by my computer, ekg machine, printer, centrifuge, and disassembled cart. But I had escaped the rain.
I drove towards the Holland Tunnel, in no particular rush to get home, even though I had hit rush hour traffic. My job was done for the day. Tomorrow is another day.
My friend and I moved out of my office today. We had planned it a week earlier, not knowing that the Gay Pride parade would be occuring on Fifth Avenue, where I work. Needless to say, it was hectic, being bombarded and surrounded by colorful characters, some barely clothed, doing erotic gyrations with their pelvis, Like a Virgin blasting in the background.
Amongst the chaos, were me and my friend, moving my stuff out, mostly heaped on top of a big rolling cart to my car parked on 22nd St. between Broadway and Park Ave. We would have to dodge the barely clothed guys handing out condoms on the street just to get to the corner. Fortunately, my friend is very attractive, so she caught the eye of one of New York’s finest and he cleared a path for us. Thank goodness for beauty. I prayed with each run back and forth from the car, that the policeman would make a special path for us, but it was only a one timer. *&@$!
I was sweating bullets and I had a craving for a tall glass of ginger ale with ice. I was dreaming of one. Neither my friend and I initially realized that parking is free on Sundays. Duh. Until a nice elderly gentleman strolled by while I was coming up with schemes to get as many quarters as possible. I actually lied to a nice bartender (never mind what I told him), and he felt so badly, that he gave me (for free) $1.50 in quarters.
Aleyda and I made three separate trips. Finally clearing most of the stuff out of the office. I have two more days in the Fifth Ave. office and I only have my laptop, portable printer, iPod dock (I can’t work without music), basic medical supplies, stethescope, centrifuge and vaccines. Which reminds me, I need to buy a refrigerator/freezer.
I came home, with my car full, realizing I need to get storage space. I am becoming more and more of a pat rack, which is very unbecoming. I set a space up for myself in Hoboken and bought some supplies online. Then I took a warm shower and ate Indian food leftovers.
I’m so tired, so sore, so achy. But I feel good. And when I finally sort through the mess, I’ve also hired Man With Van to pick everything up and bring it to the new office. Aleyda is an angel, and with my busted arm, I can’t carry and lift the way I used to, but there’s no way I can expect her (or me) to do any more heavy work.
Broadway, here we come!
Prior to today, I used to believe that my father was the most stubborn person that I know. I think I took his crown. I made an impromptu trip to the Jersey Shore, in desperate search of a massage. I rambled on down the turnpike and realized that I had no caffeine in my system. I made a pitstop at the Dunkin Donuts and realized that I had made a big mistake. Cars were parked helter-skelter. Three of the cars were having difficulty getting out. I was the only driver that pulled in. One of the cars just pulled right up to me and the driver (and her husband) kept gesturing that I should be the one to pull out.
***
Stubborn, stubborn as a mule they say. I refused to budge. Why should I have to move? I was not going to pull my car out into possible oncoming traffic. I just sat there and waited for them to move. The woman was shouting, and I might have stuck my middle finger up at her, but I really didn’t care. I was not going to move, not for any particular reason, but just because I wouldn’t.
***
I continued my sojourn towards the Shore Points, listening to KISS FM’s homage to Michael Jackson. And then suddenly I realized, my GPS had randomly picked Jackson, NJ as my endpoint. I listened to MJ’s voice in the car, turning up the volume when Billie Jean came on, which caused me to miss the sign for the Garden State Parkway taking me 15 miles away from where I needed to be.
***
I thought about my stubborness. Nothing new. Was born like this. But I have now surpassed my father, which is really intense. And then the words played on the speaker…If they say why, why? Tell ‘em that it’s human nature…
The songs and the massage gave me the forgiveness that I needed. It’s not a huge chance that I’m going to stop being stubborn, but I’ll try to keep it more in check.
My mom, me and my sister sitting on top of our Dodge Dart. The car was a third-hand car, that was my father’s first car.
I’m wearing my favorite shoes, Buster Brown, and sporting my extra long legs which is still a signature feature 
The seventies were about mismatched clothing and home haircuts 
I’m the first to admit that I have a Type A personality. As I get older (and hopefully wiser), I strive to get a lesser grade, maybe a Type A- or B+ personality. This is in stark contrast to most of my academic life where I was always an achiever.
I think this week, I definitely pushed myself up to a Type A+ personality. Moving offices, coordinating things for a new employee, making huge purchases, all of this has spelled STRESS. This has been a balancing act between taking care of patients. This week I had HAD IT.
I’m not proud of some of the things that happened: I blew a gasket. There were a number of expletives hurled at a pharmacist and a statement made of “I HAVE HAD IT, I AM DONE” directed toward an otherwise great patient who was involved in the pharmacy situation. Funny thing is, both ended up apologizing to me, and even though I am no longer angry at either of them, I still feel that I have had enough. And for some reason, even though I yelled at both of them, I have not apologized for it.
These are the pains of a growing medical practice. Nobody ever tells you about the day-to-day raw emotions. When I have spoken with other doctor-entrepreneurs, I get blanket statements like “Year 5, you’ll be fine”. But what happens on Day 268 of Year 4? I don’t even know what day of Year 3 I am in so I just randomly picked that time point. How does an expanding practice make you FEEL? I would like to know the answer to that question from an expert.
I came back to work today, feeling exhausted. The trigger points in my neck have acted up and the one in the middle of my left trapezius is just acting like an angry gnome. In the morning I waited to hear from my parents regarding some health issues, and didn’t want them to call when I was underground traveling. I made it late to work to a fully booked day. I ran into some red tape regarding some insurance bureaucracy that could have been avoided had the person returned my three messages, but of course, she hadn’t. I just didn’t have the energy to blow another gasket. This is probably a good thing.
Learning point taking the fork to a B+ personality: Let it go. I can’t control everything. Mistakes will happen. I will once in a while blow a gasket because I really want my patients to get the best medical care and I’m such a perfectionist. Get a hot stone massage on Saturday for 2 hours. Breathe.
Michael Jackson was strange, unhealthily strange.
But his music defined my adolescence and college years. My 20th high school reunion is this weekend, but somehow, my spirit is now low and I don’t know if I want to go.
Thriller…Billie Jean…Beat It…Human Nature.
I remember those lonely high school days when I felt so left out. I would come back home and play Ben on the piano and sing,
Ben, the two of us need look no more
We both found what we were looking for
With a friend to call my own
I’ll never be alone
And you my friend will see
You’ve got a friend in me
Ben, you’re always running here and there
(Here and there)
You feel you’re not wanted anywhere
(Anywhere)
If you ever look behind
And don’t like what you find
There’s something you should know
You’ve got a place to go
(You’ve got a place to go)
Never mind that Ben was a rat. It was about the music, soul and feeling.
So, when I think about Michael Jackson, I think about staying up at all hours of the night in college waxing poetic with John, mixed tapes, making bizarre dance moves with my sister at strange Indian dance parties, desperately trying to do the Moondance and convincing others that I did it right, thinking about the sadness and happiness in my life.
Rest in Peace M.J.
