Some days are better than others...
As I read of Ted Kennedy's sad diagnosis, I wondered just how much a single family can endure. Then a friend said to me, well....look at [my own situation].I am a survivor.
My friend is right.
I laid myself down on the floor, on my yoga mat, trying to relax. It' been a day of unrelenting pain, constant discomfort, and my own impatience with myself.
I itemized in my mind the things I have survived.
The threat of cancer. The process of biopsy, the stress of "waiting" for answers, the blessed relief when the news is good.
Two lives demolished by Alzheimer's while I watched, took care, went broke, wore myself out without regret. You care as best you can for those you love, for as long as it takes.
My back injury. Hospital, nursing home rehabilitation, walking again. Never take the ability to take a single step, to stand without help, to make a flight of stairs at any pace. Sprinting is not essential. Just one step at a time.
The house fire. Okay, I have a few burn scars on my arms. Not pretty, but not that bad. Slowly fading. Too slowly sometimes. But the nightmares happen much less often. I am still here, alive. My purpose on this earth not yet complete. More to do.
In my recent illness I lay in the hospital bed, thinking that if I died, it would be okay. I have done so much.
Today I am dealing with unexpected effects of the drugs used to save my life several months ago. In the process came surprise: I have a repeat of the cancer scare. Haven't I done that already? Must I do it again? Better to deal than ignore. I've never been one to bury my head in the sand. Tell me; I will deal with it.
I stressed as the doctor poked and prodded, noted my flinching with practiced eye, checking further, hustling appointments for subsequent radiology tests etc. I felt stressed, but only for a moment. How lucky that I have a doctor, that she pays attention when I speak or question, that she listens to my concerns.
How lucky I am that I can research, read, take responsibility for doing what I need to do to first, stay well, and second, when staying well doesn't work, be able to react and respond in the interests of my survival.
For I am not done, not yet, not for some time to come.
My back is unrelentingly painful today; I stretch out on the floor, ease my mind, focus on positives:
My life at the lake is over but I had it, and loved it while I had it. I turn the pages of my mind and return to that place and that peace.
My grandchildren are beautiful, and all I ever hoped and prayed they would be, or become. They are still "becoming."
I have a decent, affordable place to live with clotheslines [I love fresh air dried laundry], bird feeders and an array of birds that empty them every day, and flowers. It's a rougher neighborhood, but I am kind to my neighbors and they respect that and treat me well.
I have friends all over the country who care about me.
My life is replete with amazing experiences, unique work, exhilarating play. More to come.
I remember everyday to tell the people who matter that I love them.
So today was a rough day. We all have them. It will pass.
Last weekend I stood on the deck of a ferry, face to the wind and sun as I rode back and forth across Kentucky Lake. Next week I'll be at Collinsville for a new story.
Tomorrow holds new issues and more answers. The sun will rise, and if I am lucky, I'll lay outside for awhile and slowly tan. It's the one thing I won't give up. In an earlier life I was a beach bum. No doubt in my mind about that.
Yes, some days are better than others. So today was a rough day. There's always the promise of better tomorrow. Reach out and grab it, hold it tight, and make the most of it.
Comments (2)
Life for all of us has really rough spots and really blessed spots, but it's all wonderful each day that we are divinely given to take another breath ready to savor another memory made for every moment in time cannot be replaced or replayed, but can embraced & cherished for our lifetime
Peaches