If there were a nuclear war, members of my family would dutifully march down the ladders into underground bunkers to survive the hostilities. The minute the bombs stopped falling, even as the clouds of dust and smoke still filled the air, certain of those members – and you know who you are – would come up from the bunkers, briefcases in hand, wondering where the hell everyone else was and why they weren’t doing the same thing and getting back to work. After all, they would reason, the bombs have stopped falling, so what’s the problem?
I’m just saying, in my family you don’t get to linger long over any illness or tragedy short of death. And even lingering in death is viewed with suspicion.