I thought I would be eighty years old (well, to be honest, I have never really once believed that I would/will live to be eighty) before doctors and nurses started looking too young to be out of high school. I thought I would have more perspective on the age quotient/continuum.
I also thought that I would hate it: resent these children a little over half (and who look one-third) my age, poking and prodding, stethoscopes hanging loosely from their pockets, pen lights clipped carelessly to their patients' medical charts.
But there's something reassuring about this group of young people who have dedicated their lives to oncology, radiology, physiotherapy, nutrition, and yes, I'll say it (although much more tentatively -- they are a tribe, after all), social workers.
I like their assurance and humanity, which, in most cases (and because of their youth) have not yet turned them into arrogant, sour specialists who speak in monotone at best, and fear-mongering language at worst.
Often they smile at me, say hello, sometimes ask my opinion. But mostly I admire their compassion and the way they keep their fear for their patients -- for their own young lives -- out of their voices and their eyes.
Too many of the negatives I anticipated in life have come true. Too many things -- people -- I had hoped for have disappeared.
This is, however, one positive that gives me a measure of hope: that the skill and tenacity of these hardworking young adults will help my daughter -- help all young daughters everywhere -- locate their own hope and hang onto perspective.
