I enjoy watching Scrubs. TiVo records episodes for us, and we always have something to watch. It keeps me company while I fold laundry.
The main character, J.D., is an affectionate, friendly, intelligent but sometimes too self-involved, young doctor who goes through his entire medical training at the same hospital, surrounded by many of the same people, including his best friend since college. The other characters on the show complement J.D. rather well, and the show is surprisingly accurate in terms of medical operations.
In one episode, J.D. is explaining to his friend how to appear more sensitive, in an effort to appease someone whom he had wronged by criticizing that very quality. J.D. instructed his friend to talk to the other person about something that isn't inherently sad and, with the help of artificial tears stealthily applied, he would appear to be more sensitive.
It is with this principle in mind that I admit to you that I watched the series finale and cried. A lot. Then I watched it again with Musical Daddy, thinking I was safe. As I lay in bed last night, starting to formulate ideas for this blog entry, I cried some more. I tend not to go to sleep upset, so this was odd for me. Usually I have the good fortune to talk through things.
I should also mention, if you do not know me well, that I am not a crying sort of person. I didn't cry at my wedding. I didn't cry when The Boy was born. At least not right away. I did a bit, later, while on my own. And while I have shed several tears over the course of The Boy's ordeal, I would say that Musical Daddy consistently remains the more emotional of the two of us.
He would say the same.
So why the tears? The show is not inherently sad. The finale did make several other people cry, but as I said, I am usually less vulnerable to displays of emotion. Pregnancy hormones? Perhaps. I haven't been too bad in that regard, but it could be a factor. An exceptionally well-designed show ending? Also a factor. I don't want to spoil it for anyone, so I'll just say that it was a satisfying conclusion.
Again, though, the experience is not inherently sad. Maybe it was the circumstance. I was sitting in the recliner with The Boy asleep on my lap, watching this show before leaving for the center. Although we had been discharged from the hospital on Tuesday, we had had no break from the hospital, even though Wednesday and Thursday were "only" clinic visits. More to the point, The Boy had a very full bag of pee strapped to his leg, making walking a challenge. I remembered the events of the previous day and how much he needed me for security. I love that, by the way. We were anxious about this test, worried about something else that could kill him. I mourn the fact that every holiday or occasion makes us overly thankful that he is still there, because we "shouldn't" have to feel that way.
Thursday night was such beautiful relief. Once Daddy came home, The Boy spent about an hour just being...The Boy. Silly, giggly, impy... and we laughed so hard for so long. We needed it.
Anyhow, some experiences may always be that way for me. Not inherently sad, but with the inclusion of that extra subtext, enough to bring tears to my eyes or at least cause an emotional reaction.