To quote my favorite play Hamilton, “The World Turned Upside Down”.   I haven’t Mae any entries into the blog or a while.  The last few trips were woefully short and compressed, with growing children and their unique needs using up most of my free time on those expeditions.

In the interim, I have made a continued effort to Live.  Previously n my writings I have described the emotional drain that my work demands.  To truly make a difference, to care, to impart the positive energy that it takes to change the course of what is often some peoples worst moment comes at a cost.  I must give a piece of myself every time.  To somehow balance these energies has become a struggle and an art.  It is another job truly.  Maintaining presence with home and family requires  a balance.  I attempt to recharge and reset and clear my head. When home, I will often saddle up my horse and go trail riding for hours.  Thinking and reading and attempting to make sense of the world.  It helps. I have also developed a new habit to maintain this clarity.  A friend of mine and fellow doc, taught me to fly fish.  It was a fantastic gift.  This art seems to temper all of the stresses, when they begin to show weight.  There is something about the healing mountains and rhythmic water coupled with the task of finding fish. I can often do this for hours, heavy thoughts in time replaced by hours of thinking absolutely nothing.  The Art has a way of fixing those sort of ailments.

Mountain streams can be had within a short drive or flight from Texas, relatively speaking.   Taos New Mexico offers world class mountain and high desert fishing with fairly easily accessible streams to disappear in.   

I can still remember when everything changed.  I had quit my job for good reasons.  The corporation that moved into my old job aimed to bleed us dry.  Corporate ledges are cold and dark and factual.  No room for art or energy.  I came to a point in my life where I had to choose to participate in that sort of thing.  I chose not to.  It was in this way, that I came to leave that job and take several weeks off to mentally prepare for the next.   

Wuhan China they said.  I can still remember talking to my brother in law about a weird illness that seemed to be killing Chinese people in this place.  We shared online videos about the extreme ee measures the Chinese government was taking to stop its spread.  Something seemed off.  We watched it spread slowly across Europe,  laying waste to Italy and Spain.  We wondered why our government did not seem to be taking it seriously as we watched videos of Italians struggling for life in the hallways of their overrun hospitals.  I began to get nervous.  It would come here.  A Pandemic they called it.  It was spreading in ways that no one fully understood.  It often killed healthcare workers with brutal randomness.

We watched as the government did nothing to prepare.  The first cases.  Seattle, then New York.  Then everywhere.  Nothing we had in our vast array of healthcare treatments had any effect.  Then it was here as we knew it would be.  Our savings in shambles, due to the financial panic, I had no choice but to return to work.  The first few days, the cases were truly frightening.  The thing kills you slowly, enough so that you know what is coming.  I remember the look of fear in the eyes of the sick ones.  The warm return from my face no longer visible behind a mask and goggles.   

Would this take me?  I had not figured on something like this. A strange sense of constant dread began to envelop me at all times.  I could not shake it.  It seemed reasonable though, fear of something that was picking off healthcare workers around the globe.  There was no end in sight.  My was poor and I began to develop a sense of apathy and dread. The country had been shut down and left a pre existing trip and conference empty.  It was in this way that I came to Taos again, packing up my small speedy car and making the drive straight.  I hope to regain some clarity and purpose in those mountain streams.  

The drive was long but enjoyable, but I am tired.  A nice whisky from the store and a catfish supper with a room view of the mountains was a fitting end to a long day.  Tomorrow, the Red River awaits.