The Man From California

No, I am not from California. Have never even been there, in fact. What I am is a pharmacy technician at an extremely prestigious hospital who had the good fortune of talking to a man from California one day while I ate my lunch in a courtyard between buildings.

It is amazing to me how 20 minutes can completely change your outlook on life, even if only for a few fleeting moments. Two of my coworkers and I decided to take advantage of some extremely uncommon (for Cleveland) early May 80 degree days and eat outside. There were several empty benches in the courtyard, but none together where the three of us could all sit. When one friend said she would just sit on the grass, the man on the bench across form us offered to share his bench with her.

We got to talking, and during the course of the conversation, he mentioned he was from northern California, and how the weather (86 degrees and pure sunshine, that day) reminded him of home. We asked if he had moved to Cleveland, and he said he was just at our hospital receiving some treatments (for what, I will not disclose). He had been here for 9 weeks and was hoping to go home in June.

I do not want to get into specifics of what was discussed during our conversation, because I feel that it was for the four of us alone. I think we all felt that way, because each of us, at different points, stopped whatever we were saying when someone would walk past us. To me it felt like it would have spoiled the conversation if anyone else heard us. Broken some kind of spell, or ruined the mood, or something, I don't know. Or maybe I'm just being a melodramatic dip shit who read to much into a lunch conversation with a random stranger whose name none of us even bothered to ask, like idiots.

I like to think it's more of the breaking the spell kind of thing.

Anyway.

I went back to work feeling very happy that I was able to meet that man, have that conversation. Here was a rather sick man who, just through his outlook and personality, completely brightened my day. And sadly, he will never know it, because as is my usual M.O. I sat there not saying a whole lot, just sitting like a lump on the bench.

Then, later that day, I did what I usually do, and began to discount my own feelings about, well, everything. I thought if this guy is going through what he is going through, why the hell am I pissing and whining, bitching and moaning, about my insignificant little problems?

But here's the thing. They aren't insignificant little problems. Not to me, anyway. To a lot of people, sure, I might just be bitching about a bunch of crap that doesn't matter. But to me, I am genuinely upset about things that affect my day to day performance as a functioning human being.

I need to quit comparing my own problems to other people's, because at least half the time my first thought is, "Well why am I complaining about my petty little bullshit when this person is going through _______?" That is not fair to myself, and it needs to stop. Yes, dammit, the shit that bothers me is important. Who gives a damn if I'm the only one who thinks so?

So to the man from California... I hope you get healthy soon. I sincerely hope the treatments you are going through work and that you can return to California with no fears of having to return to Cleveland. Thank you for your inspiration and for making my day a lot nicer.

If only for a fleeting moment.