More Like Art Than Science
Chest aching; I started a new
thyroid prescription today, and though
the formulations are essentially
identical, people report a vast
difference. Today is also the first
day of classes, a new semester.
Despite dosing myself with cold
medicine, I slept poorly last night,
too anxious and excited to rest.
It's okay. The medication is likely
not the cause, and even if it is,
we'll sort it out. My doctor and I
go back and forth, like a pair of
clucking hens, considering this
possibility or that, adjusting
incrementally. It can feel like
guesswork, but I trust there is
science behind it -- or at least,
I trust her, to do her best.
Hopefully, my students
will soon feel the same.
After more than a decade
of teaching, in some ways,
the students seem almost identical --
the same symptoms pop up
again and again, and initially,
we'll try the same treatments.
Some will work, for some of them.
We will have time, to move from
generic to specific; eventually, I will
know them, each individual, distinct.
Each body with its own specific brokenness,
each mind, its own species of brilliance.