Sean

Today was a bad day at work. Understaffed, overworked, unappreciated. Huge, troublesome changes at work over the past months have left everyone's nerves frayed. Working in a fast paced specialty physician's office may not be as hard as hospital work, but it is a tough job, and only the strong survive. Troubles at home, troubles at work, no place to really be happy except perhaps in my car these days. 

A new project I volunteered to head up, involving pages and pages of scheduled doctors appointments, over a hundred phone calls. Messages left, calls returned, phone tag. I was so irritated by 9a.m.  I was grinding my teeth. All of this, while still doing my regular job, my hardworking  coworker and I, the two of us at a three person desk where four would be even better.

When I got to Sean's name on the list, I left a message on his mother's cell phone, apologizing and explaining that we had to reschedule his checkup. Then I tried the home number. As I was leaving the same message, his mother picked up the phone. Carrie! I chimed, I just left a message on your cell, I'm so sorry to bother you but we need to reschedule Sean's appointment. Dead silence, then I heard her breathing hard. Then, quietly, she said "Sean died on the 11th". 

I felt my throat constrict, for a few seconds I had no words, nor the lung power to push them out. Finally, I said I was so sorry, so very sorry. Then I asked what happened. I didn't really know them, just saw them a few times a year, but I felt it was ok to ask. She told me he had croup, which turned into what was called para- influenza, which went to his brain stem, and he died.  He was seven years old. Again and again I offered my sympathies, empty words but well intended.  She said she was sorry, she should have called to cancel, but with everything that happened...... and her words trailed off.

I was nauseous for the next hour. I'd like to say that my day got better because I was reminded of what was really important, like our health, our families. I'd like to say that this mother's grief, her unspeakable loss shook me out of my own workday misery. I can't say that. It wrecked me for the day, the day stayed rotten, and I couldn't wait to get home to cry. For her, for Sean, for myself.

They say if everyone put their troubles out on a table, and everyone saw each others troubles, each person would take their own back.

That much, I can say, is true for me.

                       ***Sean and Carrie are not their real names***

My Day As A Man

It was Halloween. I decided I had to dress around my super- short hair. Although it's been very short for months, it's still a novelty. So, I decided on Buddy Holly. I've always been a fan, love his look, what could be more fun than trying to look like a six foot tall rock and roll pioneer who happens to be A MAN? Got the sport jacket, wanted a wild print. I got pale green. Got the geek glasses. White dress shirt, tie, skinny jeans with cuffs, tiny man shoes (Docs). Did my hair, no makeup or jewelry, went off to work. We usually dress for Halloween, and I was tickled to show off my look. My husband was both amused and distressed at my male drag, kindly said I looked just like Buddy Holly, sure I did! My friends were also amused, but as the day went on I realized I looked nothing at all like Buddy. I looked like a very little business man. A miniature insurance salesman. A tiny accountant.

It was great fun until I realized I had to stop at the supermarket after work. I worried aloud to my friends, what will people think, in this conservative town, of me in male drag? A drag king! But it's Halloween! they said. People will know it's a costume. So, to the store I went. And I got plenty of looks. I really think some of the people who gave me the stinkeye were unaware that it was Halloween. Double-takes, triple-takes, oh, they were looking, all right, and I just smiled and shopped. I kept wondering if the people who were obviously gawking at me thought I was a crossdressing lesbian making a statement, and an unfortunate one in my pale green sport jacket. Had I really been crossdressing, I would have looked much cooler for sure. 

I felt stared at, uncomfortable, and a little sad. I realized that this is how some of my friends have felt as they try to live their lives the way they are entitled to. My dear friend J, who always dresses, in her words, like a dude. My Facebook friend and professional drag queen V, who applies his makeup better than I do, but walks around just as comfortably as a man with a shaved head. I would never want to think of them feeling hurt, feeling the judgement, the unkind staring eyes, but they must. Every day. I realized how brave you have to be to be true to yourself. I wish I were that courageous.

The next morning, in my pretty skirt and sweater, my black tights and boots, my lipstick, earrings, my lace scarf, I presented myself to my husband. He smiled from ear to ear, said he was happy to have his girl back. I was happy too.