I am watching my 4-year-old daughter sleep during one of her recent naps. Suddenly, an unbidden thought comes to my mind: she may die of cancer someday. My daughter is not sick, but I used to work with such kids, and my mind is flooded with images of what losing her would look (and feel) like. I am shocked. How did I go from feeling contentment to feeling anxiety so quickly? And – more importantly – why would I do this to myself? Of course, it did not happen consciously, but – to borrow a phrase from an earlier time – I “harshed my own buzz” nonetheless.
