effort with no reward

Writing yesterday’s entry was a big effort. But I hoped to get something off my chest, reporting it. Hoped to be able to ban and store it here on blog.de, not having to carry it around any longer.

When you spend an hour writing about awful illnesses with people you know well, it is bound to linger around in your mind for a while. Thus, when I got into my office, yesterday morning, I was still in a dim mood. I was convinced, though, there would be some relieve in the end. Meanwhile, the day’s duties would take my mind off the aftermath of summing it all up.

Not so yesterday. My counter staff telling me about another customer who is said to have died this weekend. Around sixty years old, no cancer, very fit, some trouble with her lungs over winter, pneumonia, she told me two weeks ago. But everything allright again, looking forward to have her grandchildren over this spring for a rather long while. I forget, why. To not have rumours floating, I call her number. Wanted to do so anyways, as she regularly helps me in spring with our public golf day. Her husband picks up the phone in a tone of voice instantly telling me, this is no rumour. I just said to him: “Bernhard, I don’t even know how to ask…” and the story just spills out of him. Indeed, this lovely woman is no more. I’ll spare you the details.

But somehow, this keeled me over, yesterday. Found it very hard to continue throughout the day. I am sure, the sore neck I came home with in the evening is entirely due to this. And what news did I come home to. The plane crash. Honestly, I was too empty by the time I watched the evening news, to be able to be empathetic.

2 thoughts on “effort with no reward

  1. Sorry to hear about these waves of pain washing over you. It always seems like such things come two or three at a time. I would say you have had your quota and someone up there should give you a break now. Hope you feel better soon.


    1. thanks. weird, I feel alsmost ashamed of writing about what really is other people’s tragic loss or suffering. it’s the ones concerned and their families, who really have to deal with what I just marginally get to know off by doing my job. but over the years, one gets to know and like folks, even if one wouldn’t call them friends, exactly. And what happens to them does get to me…


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