I was fine until I got about two blocks from the hospital.
Suddenly I realized I needed to pull over and think.
The slicing open of a man’s chest. The removal of a vein from his leg. The heart beating slowly. Very slowly.
It wasn’t the first time I’d photographed open heart surgery. But there’s hope when it’s a child. The fix just might be forever. Being a little tiny baby is a place you can’t return to, so of course you do the surgery. Of course you throw everything at the situation and make it as right as you can.
It hit me those few blocks from the hospital that this had been an old man and it’s a place in time to which we’re all headed. And despite the skills of the amazing team of doctors, nurses and technicians I was photographing, it didn’t look like a fun spot to be in.
So I had a nice cup of coffee and a croissant filled with chocolate and I felt better. I spotted a local bike builder across the shop and thought about cycling, about running, about living. I went home and went for a nice, long run.
And I don’t know what else to say except take care of yourself.
all content © Tim LaBarge 2010