I may be a transdimensional being

OK, so if the Catholics I grew up with are correct, I will one day be a transdimensional being. I will at some point unlock the cage and leave the plane of existence that I know of as “the universe” and be transported or, by will of my own, transport myself to a place of white warmth known to humans as “heaven”.

So why worry? Well, there’s all the work I have left to do. There’s the twelve videos for the RI to do. There’s the updated “In the News” video. There’s the photos for the patient information channel. And, of course, there’s the gift shop section of the website that I just finished taking photos for. I now have literally hundreds of images of bears and balloons and chocolate cigars and large flower arrangements and Cubs t-shirts, and small flower arrangements, and on and on, left to edit. The hanging chads on the voting ballot of life. I literally pushed an overflowing cart of temporary positive sentiment down the hallway past the clever quips and jolly observations of others into my studio on Friday. And though it meant more work for me, it seemed to brighten up everyone else around me in the only way a cart full of candy and magazines and flowers can. Heaven peeking through.

And I find myself here at my computer on a bright Saturday day trying to waste time on one of the few weekends where I don’t have to work or get up at 6 am. I know full well that if the Catholics are right, I’m wasting time that isn’t worth as much as time spent in eternal bliss. So what’s the hurt. But if the Catholics are delusional, then I’m wasting the few precious moments that you see in the eyes of the elderly as they imperfectly remember moments long gone. Remembrances such as the way the sun filtered through the skylight hitting the back of the flowers on the counter at the hospital front entrance. The polkadots on her blue and white skirt sitting across from me on the last day of eighth grade. The dark eyeliner above her deep brown eyes that are somehow locked on mine. Moments blow out of your hands with the passage of time’s constant wind.

So it’s off to get some fast food and interact with my fellow travelers via the intercom at the drive thru. I said two italian sausages, not three. Yes, life is good.