flu shots and closures

Yesterday I commuted into the city for my doctor's appointment. It's during these long train rides that I often feel in of myself, self-contained, while the world spirals around me on its own business and I listen to the music on my mp3 player. There were runoffs of Christmas, rural and suburban families going downtown to shop and sightsee, you can tell them apart not just by their whitebread looks but also by their innocence from the city, looking around themselves at the high concentrations of urbanness.

What I usually do when I get downtown and leave Union Station is walk east toward Michigan Avenue and stroll the entire mile of the avenue, from Washington up to Chicago. Always a pleasure, no matter what time of year. I realized this is my customary re-aquaintence with The City, a paying of respect, and an intimate valentine of sorts. Even though I now live in the far suburbs, I know I'll always be an urbanite. I was born in the city, it's my point of reference in the world no matter where I am.

I had a few hours to spend until the appointment, so I spent a good part of it writing postcards at café, and I ran into B., an old friend and brief flame. And it was so warming. He and I were involved intimately years ago, albeit a shortlived affair. I had just moved back to Chicago from Los Angeles, emotionally drained and spiritually bereft, in no condition to give love or receive it. Los Angeles triggered my being out at sea alone, unreachable, even by myself at times. To come back here to Chicago (to old friends and family, to sanctuary) and have to deal with many new people wanting to be with me, it was overwhelmingly painful and I would run away from them instinctively.

I ran away from B. When I saw him I announced that I was hording him until I had to go, I needed him at that time, and we talked. Our lives had involved complexities, agonies, and introspection many others would otherwise not survive, if they even had the balls to confront them. But for B. and me they are defining, confirming, and affirming. He told me about his relationship with his partner of several years and how people beyond it influence the ebb and flow of trying events. He's been through many little hells, and some big hells. And I look at him and his face and his vulnerability and resilience and feel good that he would have been more than worth falling in love with years ago, if only the timing and place were right. I knew he felt the same about me.

The appointment was pleasant enough, I didn't wait long. I had been assigned Dr. R. from now on, replacing Dr. M., who left the clinic on progression, and I miss her. In this clinic, it's routine for staff to come and go in stints. The assistant, E., who did my labs, was an attractive fellow. I couldn't help it, my habit of wanting to tap into people to know what moves them. Hopefully I'll work with him again in the future, if he doesn't go away, that is. After a brief visit by Dr. R., who was not as habitually cheerful as Dr. M. was but still friendly enough, D., another assistant, came and gave me my flu shot. I didn't expect this since there had been a shortage of the vaccine this season, so it was all right.