It has been such a weird several days. I have been working extra, mostly to cover what seems to be a flu outbreak among our staff. I figure it’s the least I can do, considering the number of times a year I have to call out sick due to some miscellaneous bug, or for my kidney stones. My general rule is to take the number of days I take sick, multiply by at least two, and that’s how often I offer to work extra the following year (no I don’t keep those sorts of records, I just make an approximation). I feel it’s the right thing to do, even though, generally, my extra shifts don’t “make up” for any sick time on my annual evaluations.
We watched the 6-hour HBO miniseries, Angels in America, on DVD over the weekend. Roomie had watched it during the original air dates some months ago, and kept telling me how much I’d enjoy the program, but I had (mistakenly) figured it for another pseudo-remake of And the Band Played On. I couldn’t have been more wrong. It is probably the best piece of television I have seen in a year. Yes, it’s a story about AIDS, but the perspectives are new and challenging. Al Pacino’s death scene is, I think, one of the best ever filmed (of course, my favorites are still when Spock died in Wrath of Kahn, and when Hal got de-activated in 2001). Meryl Streep’s multiple characters were also moving. I was thoroughly entertained during all six hours. There were no weak actors or bit parts. The male nurse was spot on, no not in the specifics, but in the gravity, clarity and truthfulness of that character.
My favorite quote happens at the end, when the main character, named Prior, enters Heaven. He’s given the opportunity to enter, but looks toward the Heavenly Host (dressed as homeless people) and delivers the following lines:
Bless me anyway.
I’ve lived through such terrible times, and there are people who have lived through much much worse. But you see them living anyway.
When they are more spirit than body, more sores than skin. When they are burned and in agony, when flies lay eggs in the corners of the eyes of their children, they live.
Death usually has to take life away. I don’t know if that’s just the animal… I don’t know if it’s not braver to die.
But I recognize the habit – the addiction of being alive. We live past hope.
If I can find hope anywhere… that’s it, that’s the best I can do. It’s so much not enough. It’s so inadequate.
But still…
Bless me anyway.
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