Getting into a “working” mindset was harder today.
I had a doctor’s appointment at a new office, and based on the reviews online, I was nervous. I was nervous he wouldn’t be a “real” doctor, and that I’d be wasting my time visiting this unfamiliar man in a small medical building on a street I pass almost every day.
Thankfully, I was wrong. (At least for now.) He was kind, and patiently listened to the “hodgepodge” of reasons I was in. Rather than just an exchange of medical information, he asked genuine questions in an attempt to know me (and Mack, who I mentioned) better.
The office still might not exude SUPER PROFESSIONAL AND WORLD-RENOWNED HEALTH CARE, but, I’m learning to let go of that.
At 24, I mostly need basic care anyway, and in my book, kindness goes a long way towards future trust. (Real talk, though—finding reputable people in any medical field when you have an HMO plan is one of the biggest challenges I’ve had in the last year. My resources basically include my online insurance portal, but 50 pages of names is overwhelming and impersonal. A Google search helps, maybe giving you an image or a few reviews, but that can also be what turns you away. Any recommendations I’ve tried getting from friends result in dead-ends because of PPO plans. IT IS EXHAUSTING. I’m playing major catch-up right now, too, which is why I had two appointments in two days, but again…I’m trying to chill. My doctor said today, “I can tell you are a worrying type…you need to stop doing that, it isn’t good for you.” HE’S RIGHT.)
Anyway. After another couple hours in health-land, I stuck to my plan from earlier in the week, which was to FINALLY change my name with the bank. Once I got home, I had lunch, and had to seriously consider, and re-consider, whether I would stay home and work, or get back out and go to a coffee shop; there is a smaller shop we love in Pasadena that is perfect for a mid-day visit, and now that I have a laptop without the need to be plugged in 24/7 (THANK YOU ITZHAKIAN’S), it’s a great option for a quick environment change.
I couldn’t have coffee this morning after my fillings yesterday, so I was craving it and feeling minor effects from not having it. I could just make coffee here, though, and write on the couch before getting started on dinner later. I don’t need to go out…what if it’s crowded and I don’t get a spot? Ugh THE EFFORT.
Thankfully, I quickly realized the ridiculousness of those thoughts since it was only ELEVEN-FORTY-FIVE IN THE MORNING and reminded myself that I could enjoy the space, both literally and figuratively, for a good three hours and still have plenty of time to prepare dinner in the slow, rhythmic way I prefer.
So out the door I went, and PRAISE THE LORD I did.
The shop was almost empty when I walked in, but within 10 minutes a rush came and the seats quickly filled with others looking to read, write, and gather. I ordered an Ethiopian pour-over (my favorite, and a luxury every time) and once I cupped the clear, glass mug in my hands, staring directly at the black liquid soon to inspire and invigorate, I had my moment.
It’s the moment that gets me just about every morning right before the first sip of coffee, and then right after. It’s a tangible moment, where the warmth from the mug permeating my hands meets the warmth of the coffee sliding down my throat, which of course collides with the blast of flavor throwing a party on my tongue.
I don’t have to work very hard to pause here, and take note. This experience is a small one but holds so much within it, and today, I might have missed it had I chosen to stay home. Yesterday, not so much. But today, when the desire to flip on Netflix was stronger than the desire to open a word document, choosing to leave was a discipline.
Since beginning to write, I’ve finished my coffee and enjoyed being a participant in the life around me. A smiley baby boy cooed in my direction as his dad ordered at the counter, and I got to ask how old he was, and his name, and have a brief exchange that brought another moment of joy. I can still hear his babbles as I finish typing this, and with one last glance, I see him playing with his bottle, encompassed in a world where right now, his needs are being cared for, and that’s all he needs to know. Also, every person who has walked by smiles as they pass the stroller, which is another simple, happy thing to witness.
Day 3’s story is a bit fuller now, and a bit more colorful. I’ll remember this when it’s hard to leave home, and I’ll remember that living feels more like living when our moments don’t look exactly the same, day-in and day-out.