Solar Rehab

Thanks

.... for an existence that is not mundane.

.... for better health than I deserve.

.... for loyal friends that would and have been there in a second's notice.

.... for two healthy, messy, loving, intelligent, spoiled children.

.... for doctors who are wrong (we were told my dad had six months to live -- a year and a half ago.)

 

.... for the losses that have taught me to take nothing (and no one) for granted.

.... for a capable mind.

.... for an unfaltering memory.

.... for blueberry pie that had help missing my daughter's mouth (thanks, Uncle Shane).

.... for a heart that loves too much.

.... for laugh lines.

.... for dreams that I remember in the morning.

.... for honestly believing that the best is yet to come.

 

POP!

Alright, so I've been a bit of a whiner lately. I'm aware. I'm dealing. Bitchfest '08 hasn't ended yet, unfortunately.

Last night, it happened.  I had just finished a killer bath with lavender and jasmine oils. Fantabulous. I was as relaxed as humanly possible, or so I thought. I made my way from the bath to my bedroom to get dressed, and my knee locked. It actually locked. I was sitting on my bed with one leg dangling off, the other (the jacked one) bent in front of me.

It didn't hurt, so to speak. Not at first. Not until I decided to straighten it out and unlock it.

Grate, grate, grate, (actual geriatric crepitus!)... POP!

I sat there with my chin in my lap in total shock and awe.  What the hell just happened?! The burning and pain set in moments later. I fell asleep last night with my right knee on fire.

I don't claim to have any superior medical knowledge (my nursing license be damned), but I think it's time to consult a specialist.  It going to suck a big one to be the other guy's insurance company.

 

 

One of Those Days

I think I may have left my other personality in Pennsylvania. I remember that chick. She was awfully content, if not altogether hedonistic. She smiled much more than the other half that I've brought down south with me. She was fun. I miss her.

It's just one of those days... Words won't come easily. Thoughts, either.  Quiet is as elusive as my peace of mind.  I've always been sort of discomforted by silence, anyway. Between the kids, the dog, the incessant ringing of the phone, the doorbell, the parrot, and the Sunday afternoon traffic, I should be at peace.

I've changed, I suppose.

That other chick would have never felt sorry for herself. She would have rather eaten razor blades than to lay in bed in a pathetic heap of sobs and kleenex on a Friday night. Bullshit. She wouldn't have stood for it.

Maybe I can convince her to come on down to North Carolina with the rest of us. We'll see.

In the mean time, the hateful now, I have to way too much to consider. I've been offered another position as a pediatric nurse. I'm thinking about it. I still haven't replaced the Jeep; the rental is sufficing for now. The holidays are approaching. I'm thinking about (and dreading) them, as well. I go back to work tomorrow for the first time since the accident. I don't want to think about that.

I am still intuitive enough to know when it's time to put my waders on -- it is getting deep fast.  Deeper than it's ever been, I'm afraid. I think that I am truly on my own for the first time in my entire life. It's an ass kicker.

I lament the back porch days, those lazy afternoons when a neighborhood full of kids roamed my back yard. When that other cool chick and I would have a meeting of the minds and share the rum punch. We had lofty aspirations. Big ideas. Good ideas, at that.

We wanted to be a great mom, sister, daughter, and friend. We would someday find us a handsome pirate and sail off into an azure existence of adventure and hedonistic fancies. We would consider hitching up with that lucky pirate only if Jimmy Buffett would vouch for his booty.  We would always come out clean on the other side, whatever that would entail.

It is indeed just one of those days. Then again, maybe it's hormones. Or the chilly weather. Seasonal affective disorder may be kicking in a bit early this year...

It snows here in November, after all. So much for escapism!

Nocturnal Hours

The doc says I'd be silly to take the chance of doing more damage to my knee by working this week.  You don't have a desk job, honey, she tells me.  Yeah, I know.  I feel the hot needles and shooting flames in my hip when I sit a certain way or stand too quickly.

But I have to do something. I am not the take it easy type. Never have been. If my body isn't busy, my mind is.  I have been to Mexico and back in the last week without ever leaving the house. I've had dreamless nights (thanks to Flexeril and lavender massage oil). There have also been those dreaded nocturnal hours where sleep is running circles around my bed and dodging the sheets.

Those nights are few and far between, thank Morpheus...

And then there are nights like last night, when the remains of the day are wafting between the sheets and unconsciousness. Behind my closed eyes I see his face. That familiar smile. Those incredible seawater eyes...

And sleep goes running circles around the bed again...

The Next Chapter

I remember his words as if he spoke them last night. We were sitting on the patio enjoying the twilight hues of the late June evening, conversing about the stars, the songs of crickets, and the inevitable probability that he was, not in the too distant future, going to die.

"You are the love of my life... but I am only a chapter in yours."

He said it matter of factly and honestly. We had become friends, at last. My husband and I were not friends until he was staring mortality in the face.

I tried to offer solace, to smooth the wrinkles out of a truth that he knew as well as I did.

"Did you hear me? Do you understand what I'm telling you?" he asked. Those sapphire eyes looked through and into me, and I could not deny him.

"I don't want to think of other chapters right now. But I hear you, yes." I swallowed hard and avoided his gaze. I was not ready to even entertain the thoughts of another life, of leaving behind the father of my children, the only man I'd ever truly loved, my best friend.

A week later, I was still not ready. Even as I made funeral arrangements, made the necessary calls, ordered floral arrangements and chose his casket, I was not ready. I wasn't ready the day he was buried.

Time... What a numbing creature it is. Its anesthesia cannot be bottled or simulated. I have dreamed of him many times, of course, that blue-eyed handsome man, my best friend. Always in those dreams he has comforted me, shown me the warmth of his arms until dawn stole my unconsciousness.

Last night it was different.

Beneath the cloak of dreams I crept, looking for him, and as always, I found him there. But something was amiss. He did not open his arms to me as before. Instead, I reached for him.

"No," he whispered. He pushed me back without a touch, without harshness, without a hint of regret.

I did not understand at first. And then those sapphire eyes looked through and into me... and I could not deny him.

"Turn the page..." He said it quietly and slowly, as if to remind me of something that I should have already known. And I did know. I remembered.

The next chapter... It cannot begin unless I turn the page, of course. I am not sure what I've been waiting for. I'm not even sure which story I'm in, much less which chapter I'm beginning. But I will know when I find it.

Better yet, perhaps I'll write it myself...

Nightmare on Elm Street

This year, the option of trick or treat wasn't a luxury for me.  On the afternoon of Halloween, I got one of the biggest tricks of my life.  On my way to the DMV, a Ryder moving truck ran a stop sign and I ended up crashing into the cab of it head on.

   

 

This was my first accident, and the last, hopefully. It was a very surreal experience. It happened so incredibly fast that I can't even fully describe the event. It was as if someone changed channels very quickly -- you're watching Disney and the next split second you've been switched over to a horror movie. One moment I was looking down Elm Street and listening to the Rolling Stones on the stereo. The next, I had an airbag in my face and the world went spinning. Or so it seemed.

I didn't even know what I had hit until I climbed out of the Jeep. And there it was in all its broke-ass glory, that stop sign ignoring Ryder truck. The Jeep was still running. Some guy turned it off, and I asked him to find my cell phone. I sat there for a few minutes on the sidewalk trying to breathe. A combo of seatbelt and airbag had left my chest on fire. My knees were ablaze, as well. My right side began to ache.

The two men in the Ryder truck were transferred to the ED. I was triaged at the scene and released. I wasn't bleeding or broken (that I knew of), and my heart rate was only 96 despite the epinephrine coursing through my veins.

Within a few minutes my brother and my buddy Jason showed up. I barely remember calling them. I really didn't have to do anything.  I sat in Jason's truck while he gathered my belongings out of the poor Jeep. Shingus stayed with me and just lended his brotherly support. I don't think they know what a comfort to me they were at the time. I love those guys.

And of course, I have to find the cantankerous irony in the situation. I had the accident on Elm Street... on Halloween. Freddy Krueger was nowhere in sight, but the thought is somewhat comical, nonetheless. 

I made a trip to see my doctor when everything was over. I walked away with a couple of fractured ribs, a bruised kidney, and two jacked up knees. I am sore in places that I didn't even know I had.

Optimism still reigns, despite the nightmare on Elm Street. My kids weren't with me. I am alive. And well, for the most part. It could have been much worse. The insurance company just rang to inform me that my Jeep is a "total loss." No surprise there. I suppose no treat was in the cards this year...

  So long, Black Betty... Thanks, Jason, for the enlightening photos...