Remote Physician

For three months, I have grieved, striving to desensitize myself to the ache left behind, while a thoughtful colleague—mindful of my long reflections on parenthood—urged me toward renewal. Over twenty-two years of memory pressed into my soul, the youth slipping quietly away despite attempts at restoration. Life continues, symbolized by the unlikely bloom of once-dead desk plants, while memories of my beloved filled time’s empty pockets. The strain of such memory flared my autism, making adaptation difficult; yet I found solace in carefully formed thoughts and precise speech, even when challenged to speak warmly, as in Toastmasters. Illness, when it comes, finds me instinctively recovering, my visible veins marking stories of strain from past service. I connect with people who help not for profit but out of care—people drawn to me, as children and animals often are. Though life now is calm, I wish to return to Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning, with content creation offering reward and academics, too often, claiming all. Books I once moved with weighty resolve reflect a library perhaps lost at sea, filled with belongings and dreams tied to my loved one. My beloved believed I could reset my mind and body, imagining a Faraday cage suit to control my strange electric presence—something we once dreamt up together, solving improbable puzzles sparked by shared dreams. Signal scanners once surged in my presence, unexplained pulses like echoes of lightning from a past storm. These moments, odd and vivid, coincide with meaningful days, and in them, I strive to reclaim a seamless flow in word and thought. Whatever power stirs within me, whether bioelectric or emotional, I seek to harness it not to dazzle but to heal, to lead gently, and to journey onward—always upward and forward—recognizing even the faintest rhythm of a pulse that guides us.