It was one of those days today. It’s hard to classify whether it was a good day or a bad day, in fact, I’m still unsure about it now. I am, however, ‘self-medicating’ (martini) since I couldn’t get to the pharmacy to get my prescription for muscle relaxers — more about that in a minute — and a boy’s got to get his medication somehow.

I’ve been having pain in the general area of my left kidney since the weekend. I wasn’t sure whether it was just a muscle strain. I haven’t lifted furniture or boxes at work lately, and we never got around to putting the trapeze in the bedroom back up, so I know it wasn’t a result of some acrobatic sex act. Since Austin’s water supply sits on a limestone bed, I was fearing that it might be the dreaded K word: kidney stone. But it didn’t really hurt as much as I thought a kidney stone was supposed to, so maybe it was a little baby kidney stone?

I decided not to do that thing I usually do and not go to the doctor’s office, so I called and got an appointment — granted, it wasn’t with my own doctor, but that’s so not important at this stage. After making me waltz around the examination room in my underwear (don’t ask), the {female} doctor decided that the problem is that I have either pulled or sprained a Deep Muscle in my lower back. She explained something about muscles and layers and la la la and then wrote me a prescription for a painkiller and a muscle relaxant, and gave me a pamphlet detailing exercise that’s supposed to be good for your lower back. Since I carry all of my stress in my lower back, it’s probably not a bad idea for me to get used to doing such exercises.

That’s the good.

Here’s the bad.

A colleague of mine died yesterday. I was stunned because she wasn’t that old in the Grand Scheme of Things (67), and also because none of us knew she was sick. She was such a warm person and so personable and was one of the few faculty that I don’t see that often that I genuinely felt guilty about not seeing more. A lot of the faculty assume, since my office is off of our reading room with its book-lined shelves, that I’m ‘the librarian’ and they don’t have the foggiest idea what I actually do. (For the record, we actually have not one but two librarians. Their offices are, uniquely enough, in the library.)

Carol — not the same Carol I mentioned in my post the other day — was quite different. She took a genuine interest in what I do, and, as if that weren’t enough, really wanted to help out as often as possible. Whenever I called her or asked her to participate in anything I was putting together, she was on board – no questions asked. And delivered the goods. And when you’re dealing with faculty, that’s pretty rare. It’s rare enough that I have a special color code in my address book for people like that, and it doesn’t appear anywhere near often enough for a department with as many faculty as the one I work for (Daniel, this would be the part where I exhibit pride in where I work :silly: ).

So, today, when I got a message from my Chair that she died yesterday, I gave out one of those theatrical gasps — and the fact is that I meant it. Carol was warm, she was friendly, and in academia where phoniness abounds, she was genuine.

And in an even sadder coincidence, her chair died yesterday, too.

Anyway. I’m rambling (see: the title of this blog). I actively fear death – I may have mentioned this once or twice. I don’t know if there’s an afterlife — and, frankly, I don’t know whether I’m more terrified of the idea that there is an afterlife, or if there’s not. But somehow I know she died in a dignified manner. It would be so like her.

Goodbye, Carol. We’ll miss you.