Finding the right page
It is coming up to six in the morning now, my appointment - along with everyone else who will be at this particular clinic this morning - is for 9:00 a.m. I will get there just after eight and I will not be the first to arrive.The one thing I never got used to in New York was walking in to a room full of people, saying 'good morning, afternoon, or evening' and having no one respond. Here if you catch someone's eye on the street it is appropriate to offer a greeting, smile or nod of the head in acknowledgment that you have seen and been seen. If you join a room 'in progress' you say hello.
This morning when I say good morning there will be a chorus of good morning's back and a few smiles. And people will stare. The older ones will be trying to figure out who I "feature' (look like) that they know. Some will be certain they know me. Many of them do. From time to time I become a public figure.
Others will look at the lighter tones of my skin (one of the odd by products of being quite ethnically diverse is that when you put me in a group, suddenly preconceptions about me ring false.) and wonder why I am not in the private part of the hospital. Younger people with dreads will make judgments about me that if made by me about them, would lead to war.
I just looked back over what I typed, quite quickly, with my right hand and corrected about six typos. Capitals are the most difficult as my left hand scuttles forward to help (it knows it has a job) and despite its best efforts it misses the key it aims for.
Poor sad left hand. There is a surreal quality to holding something in your hand and watching the grip you have relied on all your life just melt away while soap, pens, coins, whatever become animate and eel their way between the fingers that used to help me talk as well, and now make random flights through space and time or, more and more, cling tightly to my side because they no longer recognise the edges of my world and graze their knuckles on a wall they no longer feel coming.
I talked to my left side last night. I made a promise. One that scares me. I will do whatever is necessary to bring it back. It has taken me a while to make the promise, because I do not break them once made except in dire circumstance. And I do not actually know what I have just committed myself to. I was hoping for more information first.
Then I looked at the pattern of the last few weeks, answers on the verge of coming, then withdrawn, the waiting, the uncertainty that has been so bloody unsettling. I realised there is one area where I can be certain, and maybe the lesson all along has been the need to reaffirm the things I have always known.
I can give up the uncertainty any time I want to. I can just have faith and commit to the program wherever it takes me. Show up, cooperate and do my best to heal. Bring back my left side. I will admit to an ongoing scepticism about the need for steroids though. I will not know the outcome of this until I look back on my life.
I have lost the moment frequently in the last few weeks. Waiting for appointments in the future. Looking forward as though somehow my eyes have gained the super power needed to see through the veils, the tapestry of time. around the corner from what is to what will be.
I have this moment, and I know I will do whatever is next -right now a cup of tea and shower- and the forums, the blogs are always a'room in progress' so good morning and good living to you.
Comments (4)
Friends will ride this journey with you, today and in the days ahead. You are in my thoughts. Your logic is amazing to read, and your clarity to thought sounds strong.
Strength and friendship from afar,
Joan
I hope you have gone through this appointment and out the other end.
Each process I hope brings you more info and a little less anxiety