This morning as I was puttering around trying not to be late for school I was feeling sort of funky. My little pregnancy is 17 weeks along and there is still no kicking. I don't really show yet, just looking chubby. But I can't sleep a whole night without waking constantly, I am always needing to pee, and my skin is horrific. So I worry a little that the baby isn't growing as it should be. And I worry that I am carrying around and investing time and worry in a fetus that won't make it to life. I worry constantly about miscarriage. So sweets chided me gently and reminded me that I heard the heartbeat just a week ago and everything is fine.

Then I went to work and all the nurses assured me that it is better when the baby isn't so big that it is making its presence known constantly. And they reminded me that soon enough the baby will be kicking me in the ribs and I should enjoy the gentle early weeks of pregnancy.

Then I met my patient with the most horrific cancer I have ever seen. eroding, horrible cancer all through her legs and groin. And she is 34 years old and has three children and she is dying. No options left but to wait it out. We went in and cleaned her wounds and changed her dressings and she was pleasant and cooperative and even had a certain grace to her despite the terrible pain. She was remarkable for having survived such incredibly disfiguring and painful cancer for so long. This is the first time I saw someone and thought that perhaps, just perhaps they would have been better off killing themselves when things started to get bad. But she didn't do that, she couldn't do that to her three young children. So she endured.

I was reminded how easy my life is and how blessed I am. I should stop griping and worrying and complaining and just enjoy it a little. So what if I have to work hard this week and next. So what.