or "3 in 7,000"
Being sick is different for everyone. For me it is spiritual cleansing, the spring cleaning of the soul. Whenever I am sick, I always recall a story from the Bible about Jesus healing a sick person. In the story I remember, which I profess to not having the greatest memory, Jesus goes to the house of a sick person. He heals them, and then forgives them of their sins. Then Jesus sends them out into the world, asking them to go and sin no more. Or something like that. For some reason the story always equated in my mind, that whenever I am sick, Jesus is purifying me of sins. He is burning away my sins, one degree at a time. Then, after I am done being purified, I am sent on my way free of all sins.
I know that the logic there makes absolutely no sense, but I concocted that theory when I was nine. It has been a long month and I am glad to finally be home. First it was my operation, then San Diego, and lastly Las Vegas. No sleep for the wicked. I get out of bed and realize that my calves are unusually sore. This is to be expected from all of the walking we did up and down the strip at all hours of the night. I stand up. They are more than just sore, I have body aches. I feel my head, I definitely have a fever. I get the thermometer to double check. 102.4. Yep, definitely sick.
I hate being sick, but thankfully I am never sick too long, usually 24 hours max. I lie in bed trying to sleep away most of the sickness. I wake up the next day, only to discover that I am still sick. I still have a fever. This is longer than usual and I am disappointed, although I know my body has had a rough month. I am sure that my immune system is down to zero from the traveling and the stitches on my stomach. As I lie there, I start to speculate that maybe since I had a milestone birthday, perhaps I am catching up on all of my sins from the past decade. My thoughts are interrupted by a much needed break to the bathroom. I start to make that trip frequently that day and before I know it, my bottom because best friends with the bathroom. “What sins are these!” I think and during the next three day I live upon the toilet of purgatory.
If there were any sins left in my body, surely they were flushed down the toilet. I should be as pure as fresh fallen snow and baby lambs now.
I could also use some good news.
The good news comes in the form of a phone call from Paul.
Earlier this year, we were able to participate in a photo shoot for the city’s portrait project. For those of you who don’t know, the city had set up several photo opportunities around the city during the early part of this year. At select events, there were booths set up where people could sit and have their portrait taken. From there, 7,000 of the pictures would be selected and made into tiles. The tiles would be placed in the new underpass, which is opening soon and will connect fourth avenue to downtown. The entire underpass project has taken about two years and has been inconvenient to say the least. Walking from fourth avenue to downtown has always been a favorite pastime of ours, but has been impossible during construction.
We had heard about the project but hadn’t thought too much about it. It wasn’t until Paul’s mom passed that Paul became determined to attend a photo shoot. He tucked a large frame under his arm and we made our way to one of the events. He signed up, filled out the paperwork, and sat for his session. “This is a picture of my mom.” said Paul balancing the large frame on his knee.
“ I would like to take my picture with her.” said Paul ,” if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course.” said the photographer and took several snapshots.
This happened several months ago and I had forgotten about it until I heard Paul’s excited voice on the line. “They accepted the picture!” he said and directed me to the website showcasing the chosen pictures. I searched the site and found it. It was perfect. The picture Paul had chosen in the frame was a picture where Bettina was looking at Paul from a distance with a huge smile on her face. In the chosen tile picture, Bettina is still looking at Paul holding the framed picture.
All in all, 7000 photographs were chosen, but this was the only one that really mattered to me. Paul called his Dad, who was equally excited and genuinely touched. We made plans to attend the grand opening of the underpass on the 20th.
“Oh yeah,” said Paul, “They also selected your picture.”
I stopped for a second. I sort of expected Bettina’s picture to be chosen, but not mine. It was a bonus surprise, to find out that I get to be a part of the downtown city that I have loved so much since my youth. It was the hangout of my high school years, food sustenance of my college years, and disco dancing and friends during my adult years. Considering I almost thought I was dying earlier this week, it was nice to be immortally placed somewhere. Tally score for the week: Head (shots) I win, Tail (side) I lose.
UPDATE: I looked up the bible story and Jesus was actually talking to a prostitute and NOT a sick man. I guess my nine year old brain was wrong. Ah well
PAUL'S PICTURE: http://www.tucsonportraitproject.com/ and search for "Paul Gastellum" in the search box under "Explore Panels"
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