Saturday, January 19

I think I have made it fully clear to anyone who is in my life right now: I am in love with the group of patients that I am treating right now. I laugh at work so hard I cry, I have amazing conversations about literature & rock and roll, I throw bean bags at a giggling boy as he tries to catch them, I do plank exercises on the floor that makes my ab muscles hurt the next day, and there are always a heard of "good mornings" that start my day off just right. A few patients & therapists started a book club during lunch which has become (for some) the English class they never appreciated. (Or, in a funny way, The Finer Things Club) I love that! We are reading The Kite Runner and I feel like I am at Northwestern all over again with reading assignments & interesting thoughts/ interpretations. (Oh how I miss those rainy, weekday afternoons where the only responsibility I had was to sit in swanky coffee shops with Marius reading White Teeth!) The best part about reading with a bunch of patients/ therapists is the enthusiasm and bubbling over of excitement about the story.

An exerpt from the Kite Runner has particularly settled into my brain. This conversation repeats over & over in my head these days. A screen or measurement I am using to assess the placement of my own heart. Taken from The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini:

He turned to me. A few sweat beads rolled from his bald head. "Would I ever lie to you, Amir agha?"

Suddenly I decided to toy with him a little. "I don't know. Would you?"

"I'd sooner eat dirt," he said with a look of indignation.

"Really? You'd do that?"

He threw me a puzzled look. "Do what?"

"Eat dirt if I told you to," I said. I knew I was being cruel, like when I'd taunt him if he didn't know some big word. . . .

"If you asked, I would," he finally said, looking right at me. I dropped my eyes. To this day, I find it hard to gaze directly at people like Hassan, people who mean every word they say.

"But I wonder," he added. "Would you ever ask me to do such a thing, Amir agha?" And just like that, he had thrown at me his own little test. If I was going to toy with him and challenge his loyalty, then he'd toy with me, test my integrity.

I wish I hadn't started this conversation. I forced a smile. "Don't be stupid, Hassan. You know I wouldn't."

Hassan returned the smile. Except his didn't look forced. "I know,"he said. And that's the thing about people who everything they say. They think everyone else does too.

posted by Jenny Saturday, January 19, 2008

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