merry christmas … of death
‘Tis the season for family angst … and, for some, mourning.
I’m in Tucson, visiting my family for the holidays. Current events are seriously depressing me.
Take, for example, the rather gruesome case of the Texas man who was struck by a semi on Dec. 22, his body parts scattered from El Paso to Tucson.
That same night, a student at the University of Arizona died in a hit-and-run when she was struck from behind while riding her bike near campus.
My mom is a labor-and-delivery nurse in Tucson, working the night shift at one of the larger hospitals in town. She comes home with a lot of sad stories. Monday night, she had a patient who’d previously had a number of miscarriages, and was pregnant with twins via in-vitro. At 20-something weeks, the babies were born extremely premature, and didn’t survive.
At Christmas Eve mass, one attendee fainted during the service and had to be carried out. After mass, an older man, probably in his 60s or so, collapsed from a heart attack, following the crowd out of church. He was walking just in front of me, and fell into a row of chairs at the back of the church. I described the scene to the 911 operator as other parishoners tried to help him (CPR, etc.). His wife stood off to the side, looking shell-shocked. I don’t know how things worked out; I left after the paramedics ordered everyone out.
Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.