I'm in America

We are hit by crisis again, a medical one, a deadly one. The Bin Laden of all diseases has aimed at the core of our family. The ugly spider has grabbed my little sister's lung; and we are geared for the battle of our life, like legendary amazons.

We are fighting the battle in America; in one of the top cancer treatment centers of the country (and perhaps the world.) When it comes to medicine, somehow I trust Americans the most. Somehow, I trust the simplicity of their "good guy versus bad guy" dichotomy the most; and their "we can do it" attitude.

I am in America, where strangers are not shy to hug me when they find me crying in a private corner; where the senator is prompt to guide us how to use his leverage to obtain visiting visas for the rest of our family who are still in the axis of evil; where the highwayphobic neurosurgeon professor does the unusual adventure of driving to the other neck of the woods to bring food, supplies, laughter and encouragement; where hope is researched and invented ...

These days, I drive the vast suburbs of the South, fashion-free in shorts and tops, and contemplate moving closer to my family, abandoning my old European home, abandoning urban landscapes to which I am existentially dependent, abandoning the social systems that would perhaps not have allowed the kind of preferential treatments we can seek in America. I fear I will go crazy; but family comes first; and at this moment I would do anything for my little sister's comfort, survival and well-being.

These days, I spend hours and hours examining and re-examining the meaning of life. Many of my convictions are thrown out of the door: my platonic naturalism and my pharmacynicism, first and foremost. In fact, for the first time, I am grateful for the kind of education I have received, and it gives me purpose in working. And I no longer believe in things like "I would never pay taxes to war nations."