As we talked about and read in the poem we discussed today, life is funny. You don’t exactly expect that your favorite professor will have trouble breathing at a cookie decorating party, nor that suddenly the responsible one has to be you (Katia, you know this feeling, I’m sure). However, I’m glad I was able to be there for Dr. Scanlon. I bring this all up to say that, however much of a cliche it is, life is funny. Maybe not hilarious, something more like interesting and possibly amusing, at times. You never know what situations you will find yourself in and how your past experiences and trauma will play into that. When we were reading the poem today, I kept thinking about how easily I find myself in unusual situations and how these have shaped my personality today. Because that’s just it–just like how Vuong has these concepts of light-hearted humor next to ideas of terribly tragic things, life hurls the weirdest, unorganized things your way. One minute, you might be laughing at how someone is struggling to decorate a cookie and the next, you’re in a situation where someone’s life could be in your hands.
Anyways, I’m sorry for exposing you, Dr. Scanlon, but I thought I should share how I connected today’s reading with our experience. And needless to say, I’m glad that you’re okay!!!
My intense discomfort at the idea that someone might think or speak of me when not in class is relatively critical at this moment. But yes—- life is strange in just this way.
Piper, even though I was not present for Dr. Scanlon’s emergency – I can relate. One of my brothers is high functioning autistic, and also suffers from refractory epilepsy. I’ve grown up with this brother – part of which consisted of learning how to draw a needle and administer medicine, or when to identify when a seizure that is not a grand mal is happening. I’m also an expert at knowing what items will be needed for my mother when she has to ride in the ambulance to the hospital with my brother : phone charger, wallet with insurance cards, my brother’s medical journal, and her Bible. These two forms of knowledge only ever felt applicable to interactions with my family; but, as you said, life is funny. Since being at UMW, I’ve had classes with two students with epilepsy. I’ve never needed to intervene in a situation, but it is nice to see a spread of relief cross their face when I tell them I know just about everything of their medical condition – and I can help. Maybe it’s God putting me in a place where I can use some rather traumatizing experiences to help others, or just pure luck. Either way, life is funny.