Today was a momentous day. I packed up my office of six years and removed every bit of me form that office, said goodbye to a day-full of patients and walked away. There had been a farewell luncheon with my colleagues two weeks ago, where I was able to talk about the year in Ecuador and thank everyone. I felt very appreciative that day; my colleagues have been helpful allies these past years, referring patients, sharing advice, offering an ear when I sorely needed to be heard. It is odd that while individually I have excellent relationships with my colleagues, as a group we have not been particularly functional, especially in the past three years. When overwhelmed with frustration, one year ago, I opened a new office a few miles away, where I work three days a week. I have loved my new office, where I have no employees, and I take care of every role in the office, from secretary to receptionist to billing person to medical doctor, and I have been very happy and never frustrated in this new kingdom of mine. When I return to Baltimore, I will not join my former group. I really have no idea what I will do when I return, but one certainty is that I have left my old office permanently. I am not sad today, although saying good -bye to patients is difficult, and I have experienced some tears through this process. This is not the first time I have closed a practice, so I have learned from past efforts and this transition has been smooth.
I killed one of our fish today. The goldfish are four years old; at Maya's fifth birthday, we had a magician who conjured up five goldfish out of his tie. We kept them and three died almost immediately, but we have nurtured the last two, with Eric's expertise in fish. Amazing that with all our travels and other concerns, the fish have thrived until today. I ahve not changed the fish water for the weeks that Eric has been gone. The tank is simply too disgusting to clean, so I was waiting for Eric's arrival nest week to change the water. unfortunately it was too late for one fish. the other remains alive, and I have him in a glass bowl. I threw the other fish in the garbage and am not waiting to muster up the courage to dispense with the dirty tank. I am not sure I can stomach it but it should not remain in the kitchen. I am not sure what I will do with the other fish. It needs a new home. I have tears for the fish; I feel this move has coincided with too many losses. Pippi died in February and now we have lost a fish. So much sadness.
Maya hardly paid attention. She has her friend over playing ballet camp. After a day of dancing, she and Sarah are reliving the day, from ballet lesson to comtemporary to make-up lesson ( I was upset with her when I found more make-up on the window-seat cover than anywhere else). I am the only one wanting a funeral for the fish. We did not have a funeral for Pippi, we were all so very sad.
Elmer came over for his 'conjugal' visit yesterday. He seemed to feel quite at home, eating scraps off the table and licking up plates in the dishwasher. He is thinner than when with us. He is getting more exercise at the Benichous, and is absolutely mellow and content. I was worried that May would have difficulty with having him come over and then leave, but she was easy, was happy to see Belina and Marius, and was delighted to watch 'StarWars'.
Daphne and I made some progress last night and Maya and Sarah are in bed, so I have no more excuses, time to pack some more