Here I am, sitting in the chemo chair, immediately after being unhooked from tubes, which, having been connected into my port, had conveyed meds paced at a slow drip, over a number of hours, directly into my blood stream. And as you can see from this image of my natural smile, all went well.
As this photo was taken several days ago, it does my spirit good to know that despite the fact that everything, which had sustained our sense of financial security has been closed down on a global scope, causing daily life to change, unimaginably, you and I are still choosing to meet and greet one another with warm virtual hugs while our appreciation of enjoying yet another sunny desert day encourages us to take a healthy, virtually imaginative stroll through the duck park—I remembered the bread—six feet apart, where, while exercising body and brain, we’ll converse about whatever pops into our minds and out of our mouths ... and knowing me to be so loquacious as to rarely be at a loss for words, thank you for suggesting I start ...
First off, let’s wish a happy 54th anniversary to Will and me! Will just made a delicious scramble of eggs, cheese and tomato as we celebrated, together, at brunch, overlooking our patio’s royal blue tiled spa, which backs up to ‘my’ mountain, and if you imagine your mind’s eye climbing my mountain straight up toward its peak, which penetrates the sun streaked, azure sky that floats high above our one story home then next, you can imagine catching a clear view of the expansive nature of the valley in which Will and I chose to settle down, nearly half a century ago, where our trio of active sons were raised within the first two houses of three, the first of which had been occupied for just a year before it’s original owners, having been transferred out of state, sold it to us, and within less time than two blinks of an eye, Will and I, with mutual delight, transformed their house into our very first home, which our family of four had thoroughly enjoyed until we celebrated David’s birth at which time our guest room (into which we’d eagerly welcomed a slew of winter guests escaping the ice blown Midwest, more often than you might have thunk) turned into youngest son’s nursery, because having grown up, first sharing bedroom space with my grandma, followed by doing the same with my younger sister, I’d felt that our offspring would enjoy countless benefits from the privacy that a room of one’s own would accord all three, so that left us feeling need of expanding home base to include five specious bedrooms complimented by four full baths, thus accommodating that ‘needs’ of immediate family as well as extended family and friends, who’d been adopted into our family so naturally as to have felt utterly at home within all three of our newly constructed, quite spacious abodes, each of which had suited our current lifestyle, which had continued to change for the better as naturally as Will had advanced from honor (pre-Med) student to Med. Student, to well trained doc to chief resident to well respected, successful, board certified surgeon.
And now, having caught myself before slipping any further into this stroll down memory lane , let’s leap over ground lost so as to get back to the fact that at the age of 77, Will had never before cooked so much as anything, not even boiling water, until this week, when something about my being seriously ill and our being housebound must have stimulated some unexplored aspect of his creativity to awaken, because, setting thoughts about beginner’s luck aside, so far, he’s proving to be a natural in ‘his’ kitchen with no coaching at all from yours truly. As for me, I’m all for this change in which my kitchen is now his, so all I have to say is hip hip hooray! Kudos to the new chef to whom I’ve happily passed the baton ...
If it’s our 54th, today then it must be our niece’s 32nd, as she and her husband married on our 22nd anniversary, at which time, Beth (who had been my flower girl), and Steve (Beth’s beloved) had honored all five members of our immediate family by asking us to walk down the aisle at their wedding—David, being eleven, held the arm of the gramma, whom he’d shared with his brothers and cousin, Beth. During the dinner, bride and groom invited aunt and uncle to join them in the middle of the expansive, color lit dance floor, where, much to our surprise, an anniversary cake was rolled out, 22 candles and one for good luck all aglow, and when the band struck up with the anniversary waltz, to which Will and I danced, our three sons arose, formed a circle around their parents, and sang the anniversary lyrics to us as Will and I, feeling utterly enchanted, continued to waltz within this circle of love, which was attentively watched by wedding guests, numbering 200. Ahhh! And that delightful, deeply heartfelt memory arises each year when I wish Beth and Steve yet another, very happy anniversary! (Beth is our niece, who is recovering from last week’s kidney cancer surgery. And with that detail, placed clearly on the table, reality replaces but doth not pop reminiscent bubbles, containing wondrous memories, which alight at least once annually from within my mind
So—Day before yesterday, cabinet cleaning stalled. Didn’t feel like getting back to it till late yesterday afternoon when I chose to clean out—not a whole cabinet—just another shelf. Man! I can’t believe how much stuff each of those shelves has stacked away, over this past quarter century! Makes me wonder how much unnecessary stuff in need of reorganization into three piles (keep, toss, donate) remains firmly packed into my memory, over the past three-quarters of a century, which, likened to a lightening strike, struck only to speed by in the blink of an eye.
Yesterday, while I was sitting cross legging on wall to wall, bathroom carpet for short bursts of time—feeling short of breath due to chemo compromising healthy heart function—pulling stuff forward from the back of said shelf, a wide assortment of items, many of which are hair toys that have been out of sight, for many years, kept coming out of hiding like an endless stream of circus clowns running out of a tiny car under which no one can see a trap door leading straight through the floor!
Gosh, these hair toys saw magical memories of festive occasions rebloom, right before my now dancing eyes. Weddings of cousins and friends. Bar and bat mitzvot of children of friends. Weddings of those children, followed, now by Bar and bat mitzvot of children born to the children of our friends, and thus doth traditional festivities filter through family life no matter the fact that personal pleasure and personal strife mix it up as is true of every person’s life. So why are we so shocked to see pestilence on a global scope creating world wide pandemonium, right now? Because none who are living through this cataclysmic panic, today, has ever experienced cataclysmic panic that had shattered all sense of personal and professional security throughout the world except for those so old as to have experienced the Great Depression of 1929 which fell between World War I and II. Hmmm, so where is this intuitive train of thought leading my intelligence, today? As of yet, I have no clue. Yesterday, a dear friend, who I knew in high school and grew to love in college, is a therapist, who described our current situation to her clients as a ride through a dark tunnel, which so far has showed not a glimmer of light at the end to offer us so much as a reassuring hint as to where these confounding changes may see each of us end up.
And my take is that as some have gained more insight concerning detailing bigger pictures than is true of others, whose inner strengths lean in a different direction, we’d each do best by choosing to take this ride through dark times conjoining our host of strengths, together ...
As of yesterday, one of my dearest friends of forty years, who is scheduled for a non elective surgery, next week (to tweak a new problem, associated with her breast cancer surgery of 30 years ago), was still working at her office, interviewing prospective clients, while hoping not to get sick so as not to postpone her upcoming surgery. Seems like my friend’s brain has been experiencing inner conflict, which, interfering with clarity concerning prioritizing business over health, is likely to work against her best interests, over the long run. We’re talking myopathy running interference with grasping bigger pictures.
My friend’s husband, who works in sales for a nationally based, fresh fish company, just learned that his employer has closed his business, indefinitely, and as the same is true of restaurants, serviced by the sales force that provides fresh fish, daily, my friend’s husband is stressing out, because ‘business is so bad’. Myopathy and panic go hand in hand.
Yet another friendship that I’ve treasured since college exists long distance, and many of our recent texts, which have gone back and forth, consider inner need to relax as my friend and I contemplate attitudes concerning mindsets which, time and again, prove in need of healthy changes, most especially, now, in the midst of surreal change that’s still too huge for anyone to understand everything that’s spiraling beyond anyone’s control. In short, while the world as we know it is spinning off its axis, long-distance texting conversations with this particular friend remain based primarily in logic and common sense.
As that’s not true, right now, of my exchanging texts with the couple, previously mentioned, who live just down the street, I implore them to do whatever it takes to stay physically well while quietly hoping to hear that their combined, limbic reaction to world wide panic is beginning to calm down at which time, as both reconnect with their lost sense of logic, we four will be able to converse on the same wave length, again.
And now, having rested while penning this post after feeling short of breath from emptying that under counter cabinet shelf followed by reassembling that mound of stuff into three separate piles, I’m about to tackle another shelf, because though I have no trouble categorizing everything into three groups (keep, donate, toss) I cannot yet see how best to reorganize the stuff I plan to keep in the best possible, orderly manner.—and now, in the thick of it, I can see why it’s no wonder that diving into this job had never been seriously considered before we were housebound! Intuition must have cautioned my processor to believe that this cabinet cleaning task would mimic today’s underlying sense of global need to rid the world of over-grown, obsolete disorder as everything we knew or believed to be be true about the world in which we live continues to shut down—seeing us staying home, where people of all ages have no choice other than to play the game of CATASTROPHE?WAIT AND SEE, simultaneously .... Hmmmm ... your calm, patient, observant friend, Annie
No comments:
Post a Comment