Thursday, May 13, 2010
The Slow Drift
My little canoe has been circling around since my return from Ohio, making no forward progress. It is discouraging for a bossy person like myself to not be able to speak; fitting karma perhaps but lonely and strange at the same time. Today I heard about a friend of a friend who has had the same voice restoration surgery as the one I'm having on Tuesday. This person did indeed regain his voice although a softer version and so I am comforted by that thought.
A little side effect of my new larynx is breathlessness. Last night John and I went to a movie and I had to ask him to slow down twice as even a brisk walk wears me out. I want to get going again. It is weird to have my wings clipped. I need exercise.
And so my journal has been a reflection of these circuitous thoughts. Too much pondering; I'd be better off doing than writing but I seem stuck in my left brain. I have always had the kind of mind that wants to plan my way out of disappointment. It won't work this time but my brain keeps insisting, "I can help" and "let me think our way out of this".
Every day I wake up thinking that today will be the day I get back to work but so far I've just crabwalked through the hours in a torpor. I could fight it harder I suppose. But common sense tells me this is a big event in my life and that I should respect it. Allow myself to feel the sadness and be unproductive if I feel like it. To give it some time.
Everyone has been so kind. So tender. My daughters gave me the best Mother's Day beginning with pedicures, lunch at my favorite restaurant and then full body massages followed by frappucinos. Kindness. So much kindness. I feel the pokes and prods of all the "mothers" who are willing me to go on and not stay moored.
This etched metal Virgin of Guadalupe arrived in the mail along with several other treasures this week from dear Pilar who so many in our community know. She is one of the good guys, a sweet spirit who I know has reached out whenever she could to be of help to others. So thank you Pilar for the music, the stitched drawing on linen, the card and most of all for just knowing someone like you exists in the world to care for the fallen. You are a goddess of light.
That goes for all of you who come here whether you have written or not - I can feel you out there and I'm hoping a week from today I'll have some great news for you. I'm going to do my best to make it so. xo