The good, the bad, and the beautiful.
So many people have sent e-mail messages or Facebook notes wondering about the state of my situation, and for that I am enormously grateful. I know my postings have been sporadic at best, but that does not mean I am not always working on the next posting, it just seems to take longer to form my thoughts into something does not come out looking like a tattered toothpick, totally useless. The low down medically is that I have gone from taking the pill form of Methotrexate to weekly injections, the hope was that it would lessen the side effects. A month into the self injections and I am pretty sure Florence Nightingale would throw a big ole chicken fit if she saw my technique with the needle. Thank goodness for my friend Amy who is an awesome nurse and a total support trying to tame my squeeze and stab technique which would make even the die hard junkie cringe at the sight of it all. Unfortunately the side effects of the medicines are still pretty awful, but a bit better and I will even say manageable but I have hope they will lessen even more with time. After a series of Euflexxa injections followed by a series of cortisone shots into the kneecap it is now tolerable. I can walk a mile at a time the first few weeks after the injections, after walking on it for a few weeks it becomes more of a challenge, but I just try to be patient until the next series of shots. I have been walking on the treadmill but I miss running, I miss it a lot. I wonder if the people running on the treadmill notice my subtle stares and jealousy, their cadence of steps shaking my world, the regret is tangible hanging in the air with each painful step I take. My Achilles tendon is a total pain in the ever loving ass, after a year of dealing with the sucker, Dr. Dailey ordered an MRI and it confirmed a couple of tears and tendonitis in my right foot, so off to PT I go to work it out.
It all leaves me off kilter, unbalanced and completely unsure of what happens next, but then things in life happen and you don’t expect, imagine and ultimately can’t explain how or why they happen the way they do. I got the call on a Monday that Lindsey was headed to the hospital to give birth, and the next day on St. Patrick’s day morning I headed down to Knoxville in a mad dash to meet the newest love of my life. Owen would steal my heart in a matter of seconds after laying eyes on him, as I held him close watching him peacefully snoozing away, I became nauseatingly aware it all goes by so very fast. Driving through the mountains of Tennessee, particularly on that day, St. Patrick’s Day, knowing I was being drawn back for a reason. And as much as I might resist, my heart knows, it always has but I have to trust that things will happen when they are meant to happen, sometimes waiting and learning is the prize. Trusting is the hardest part, it will come, I know it.
The following Monday was a drowsy, lollygagging one at work, when I heard the ding of the bell out front I pushed my chair away from my desk in the back of the office and walked the short distance to the front counter preparing to help someone who wanted to purchase a subscription package to the opera. I grabbed a form, a pen, a plastic laminated seating chart and I stopped just short of the window and dropped everything I was holding at the sheer sight of him. I could feel the expression on my face change, the heaviness of my eyelids and they closed in slow motion and the effortless unhinging of my jaw as my lips fell apart, they gasp barely a whisper.
He adjusted the hat lingering just below his brow, the watery grey eyes could have easily been my Dad’s they even danced a bit when he said hello. The man was much shorter than my Dad, somewhere in his late 70’s to early 80’s but there was something so familiar about him, we chatted long after the sale of his subscription was complete and I know it was all my doing, the procrastination was mine and I owned it willingly. As he gathered up his things to leave I grabbed a obnoxious colored sticky note and scribbled down my number along with my name written in big block and as I reached out to attach it to his paperwork he spoke. “That’s why you’re such a good kid, my daughter’s name is Lori.” I almost blurted out to him that he reminded me of my Dad, but my words betrayed me running scared diving for cover in the back of my throat seeking out refuge from my overzealous proclamations. “If you need anything, anything at all as we go through the opera season, you call me directly. I will take good care of you!” Poking my finger repeatedly on the light maple counter making sure he understood he was welcome to call me anytime at all, He scratched the stubble on his chin, “Well I just came to buy some tickets but it looks like I found a friend as well. That is the best thing a person can hope for in my book.”
I smiled at him, replying “Yes sir it is, it is indeed.”
The moment crept by, the double dog dare dancing in the air, just the two of us playing the game now. As he reached for the door and I yelled out to him. “Hey, do you like baseball?”
He turned his head as the air in my lungs made a hopeful lunge for home plate, ” You know I do.” he gave me a thumbs up and he was gone. I reached up and traced my dads name in shaky streaked letters across the glass window that separated us, because in fact, that afternoon, John was here.
The most important things are the beautiful ones….the ones that get you through when you have no idea how in the world you’re gonna make it to the other side. Sweet intoxication of hope…
Finding the good things, seeing the beauty that is all around if the eyes can be pried open from under the covers , and acknowledging the bad does indeed arrive, but I do my very best not to invite it to stay around for very long. I am figuring it out, little by little I will get there and I will write more. I promise.