Mercy Me

As you may or may not know, I'm addicted to television. I'm one of about four people out there who regularly watches the new hospital drama Mercy. (Honestly, I'm surprised it hasn't been canceled yet, but after all the shenanigans NBC has gone through lately, maybe one show's poor ratings aren't really at the forefront of their mind). But right now, other than American Idol, it's the only show I watch on Wednesday nights (until next week, when new episodes of Psych start up again - moving away from Friday, which pleases me immensely).

I have a love/hate relationship with Mercy. I enjoy the show. I like the characters. I like the writing. But I hate that every single week, without fail, the dang show makes me cry. Horribly cry. But that's really not why I'm writing about it now. I'm writing about this show because of one of the story lines from tonight's episode. There was a patient in the hospital who was in a coma for ten years, and he woke up.

This really made me think about things. A lot of things. Ten years. I've been thinking about decades a lot lately - just look at my blog posts from the end of 2009 and the beginning of 2010. Ten years is a big deal, a big milestone. I have a lot planned for the next 10 years.

What would you do if you woke up and learned that ten years have passed? What do you think would stick in your mind? Family aside, who do you hope you will remember? Anything you hope you'll forget?

It's interesting to think about, really. And part of me wonders what sort of world events would transpire, and what kind of changes those events would create for the people in my life. Of course, there's no way to predict what could happen. You can't expect the unexpected, or else it wouldn't be unexpected. Sometimes, though, it's fun to imagine what could happen. Fun. Or scary.