Hanging on for Dear Life

Today I rode three different kinds of public transit.  There was the quiet, first thing in the morning city bus, just a little late as usual but then he values safety so that's ok.  I guess.  Then there was the inter-city bus that has a nice long seat in the back for me to sleep on.  Always a plus.  The third was another city bus that must buy brakes on wholesale because he sure liked to use them.  I just thank my lucky stars there were no pregnant ladies with weak stomachs aboard and the small children were all safely strapped into their strollers.  The older people already knew about survival skills on this bus and they were hanging on, white knuckled and grim faced, determined to make it to the bingo hall without sliding off a seat and down the crowded aisle.  I had to stand for part of the time and I'm telling you, it was like trying out for the Inner City Olympics.  I learned that those flimsy overhead straps are not always bolted into place and that the person behind me doesn't always realize they are my back up plan in case I do happen to lose my iron grip on the overhead railing.
The trip home wasn't much better because my cell phone lit up with bad news about a family member and I detoured from my usual route home directly to the hospital.  The triage nurses did a fantastic job of telling me to stay in the waiting room so I politely thanked them and walked around the corner to the security guard and informed him of my name and the room number I was visiting which he scrawled on a sticky name tag.  Magic.  The door opened.  When the rest of my family got there, the security personnel were nowhere to be found so I made out name tags for each of them with a half nod to hospital protocol and then went over to the same nurse and informed her that we needed to be let in.  For some reason, we were allowed in and walked down the hall to the appropriate room.  This time I looked down and saw frail hands holding the metal railing of a gurney and my sense of humor disappeared.  I don't know what it is about holding on to whatever is closest to us that makes us feel as though we are more in control and secure.  Sometimes, it is a practical way to avoid walking the windows on a quick turning transit ride.  Other times, we don't even realize that what we are holding onto is not the object itself but the frailness and uncertainty of our own lives.  Today was a rough day and I called for help when I felt I needed to talk.  I have morning therapy tomorrow which just happens to be in the morning (redundancy intended).  Time to cry and sleep.  Is that enough self help journaling for one day?  Yeah, I think so.