That old familiar sinking sensation
I refer of course to the Red Sox, who as we speak are down two games to one in the ALCS against the Indians. Josh Beckett is a god, as he showed in Game 1 and in the ALDS (we demolished the Angels in three straight), but now the offense has vanished and the pitching is shaky. And for some reason Francona is having Wakefield start tonight rather than Beckett on three days' rest (which would also have him ready for a Game 7 on regular rest). Why is Wakefield starting? Why does Dice-K now suck? Why is Gagne even on this post-season roster? Why do we care? Why, why, why?
I've been reading Larry Sievers' blog on the NPR web site and it made me realize that the whole notion of predicting a life span "time limit" based on a certain diagnosis is questionable, because there is so much variation depending on each person's individual body chemistry and response to the many types of treatments (and new ones appearing all the time). I guess you just have to live your life as normally and as free from apprehension as you can while still being somewhat cognizant there you have less time left than you originally expected – but you really don't know how much. I wonder if it would be harder living with uncertainty (knowing your life may be shorter or longer than the doctors predict), or knowing that you have a definite "last day" or month looming ahead and trying to plan accordingly.
Oddities of nature
I think it's fascinating when conjoined twins not only survive but can somehow function, as these turtles seem to be doing... but I cannot get my head around what it must be like when the twins are people. What in the world will their lives be like in terms of, you know, relationships? Though apparently the original "Siamese twins" were married and each had a bunch of kids. Talk about not having any secrets in your marriage. Which is ironic because I just finished "On Chesil Beach," which is about two normal, healthy, articulate adults who fall in love, are engaged for several months, get married and then find they know absolutely nothing about what the other is feeling about a vital aspect of their relationship – because both are virgins on their wedding night and it's 1962 when such things are still not discussed. I'm grateful to live in the so-called modern era but can't help wondering exactly in what ways we will appear backward and repressed to our kids in a couple of decades or so.