One more time, One more song. – Dr. Plastic Picker

One more time, One more song.

| Posted in COVID-19, Our Tween/Teen, Star Trek/ Philosophical Tangents

Did you know Vulcans live to 200?

May 30, 2020

by drplasticpicker

It is the last day of May and I think I’ve come to the natural conclusion of my time with Trip and T’pol in Star Trek Enterprise. I wrote a blogpost close to my heart regarding how being immersed in their romance helped me get through the last three months of COVID-19 quarantine I watched some of the fan montage videos and read more fanfiction that was on-line yesterday. I rewatched some of the key scenes from the first three seasons, and rewatched my favorite scene several times yesterday. The series helped me get through the last three months but at some point it is time to end this chapter. Sometimes the second or third time around you are experiencing just echos of the intense first moments, feelings.

Is this why people have extramarital affairs, sometimes without reasons continue to have many many children, or ask to change offices again? Are we always trying to recapture that intense first moment?

I am bag 196 today of ocean bound plastic gathered There is an entire litter picking/beach clean up Instagram world, about 800 that I am connected with, who “follow” each other. One of the beach cleaners just north of me found a set of dentures, and it was on her bucket list of things to find. Another person in LA mentioned that I was so close to 200. It’s an off-kilter group which I’ve come to enjoy being part of.

But getting close to 200, I have slowed down. I am sure I will pick up more bags of trash, but I am trying to savour the moment. Yesterday I went for a walk with Mr. Plastic Picker and there was not even enough litter to fill up my small grocery bag. I told Mr. Plastic Picker, “I can’t count this bag. I don’t want to cheat.” But I think it was more because I didn’t want to get to 200 yet.

Our crazy black puppy when she was an actual puppy.

I try to declutter my iPhone pictures periodically but I keep this one on. I’m sure you likely have a similar one. This picture was from two years ago when we had just brought our dog home, and she was still a puppy. She still only weighs about 12 lbs now but back then she was a tiny thing. I remember when she was still in her fenced off puppy area in the living room, and I would bring her out into the backyard so she would have time on the perpetually green artifical grass. We would sit on the paver steps and I would have her in my lap. I distinctly remember those mornings, as every morning was so distinct with her. One morning the sprinkles went off and she startled. Another morning she saw a bird for the first time. One sad day she jumped off my lap and landed her little head on the pavers and was wobbly. I called Dr. Dear Friend in a panic, and my pediatrician friend who is a long-time dog owner advised me that our new puppy had a concussion. She recovered. But what I remember most is being sad at times. Holding her in my lap in the mornings, I was distinctly aware of her short life span. Fifteen years. Fifteen years meant that each morning was really a week of mornings. I could feel her life passing by quickly. I envisioned me 15 years from that day, and her life at the end. I would think of what my mother would sometimes say, why love her so much when you will lose her? I would cry sometimes and I found it very sad. I could not understand why I would allow concerns for the future steal away the joy from the present. She was a puppy.

Vulcans live until about 200 years and humans less than half that lifespan. The wonderful thing about Star Trek is the romance of T’pol and Trip drew me into the Star Trek Enterprise series, but I’m left with vestiges of the pseudo-philosophical thoughts about aging, time travel and space. I have written my alternate ending for T’Pol and Trip which brings me great joy, but I also am reminded that T’Pol will outlive Trip in any scenario that they remain together. She is a Vulcan and he is a human. Just like in most scenarios we will outlive our puppy.

I have been thinking about death and endings because our piano teacher Ms. Y passed away May 27th at 5:31AM in hospice. She died of cancer during COVID-19. I had written in a previous post about our saddness and concern regarding her. But what we were worried about has happened . Her sister told us she is now free from pain and rests in peace. The kids had their last lesson with her virtually a few days before. It was a lovely lesson and her voice was still strong and she praised them. She received our card that our family sent, and her sister had read it to her while she was in hospice and appreciated our family’s messages.

The children reacted differently. Our daughter more emotional and tearful, because she truly feels things. She will never need to spend hours picking up plastic on the beach to find her empathy like her mother because she was born empathic. Our son was her student for years, and he is more like me. I don’t think he has fully processed it. I asked him how he was feeling, and he looked sad. “That’s why I did the last recital for her.” We had been continuing lessons even through his first year of high school but had dropped the recitals. The last one, he opted to play. He had been very busy with projects and classes, but he was insistent that he wanted to do the last one. He insisted in his quiet way. This is when Ms Y was already sick but still strong and teaching at the school and private lessons at her house. I didn’t fully understand then, but he did it for her.

I have a half-written post that I wrote during the kid’s last piano lesson. I am not sure if I will finish it, but blogging for me is about processing all the moments in our lives. Writing this blog piece has helped me sort out my thoughts. Time travel, aging, Trip and T’pol’s romance, the short relative lifespan of dogs and humans relative to Vulcans. The death of our piano teacher who had been a weekly constant in the children’s lives. One of the nurses in our clinic that I talk to daily always tells me, Dr. P you always find connections.

I was going to title the blog post about Ms. Y “One more time, One more song.” I think I will keep that half written post for myself as somethings should stay private. But I will name this post “One more time, One more song.” That was one of the last things Ms. Y told the children.

Only 2 years old and many more moments to live.

Between COVID-19 pandemic and dealing as tween and teens the emotional work of a teacher dying, I have encouraged the children to escape into their respective imaginary worlds

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