But Wait! There's More!
Adventures in medical matters update: Z is scheduled to come home tomorrow and Danny Mo and I are very happy about that. His home care at my hands may be less than perfect, however, since I fell on my already bruised hip Monday and smacked it so badly that I had to go the the ER. I fell right on my own front steps and would herein like to recognize my dear neighbor, Dr. Ben, veterinarian and outstanding human being, who came to my rescue. He and his wife, J., were so very kind--Ben drove me to the ER and simply wouldn't let me send him away. It was 2 a.m. when he finally went home.
After prodding, poking, X-raying, and CAT-scanning me, the docs declared I have no broken bones. They gave my own set of nifty crutches, so I'm limping around like Chester. Insert kudos here to my caring friend R., who picked me up from Kaiser in the morning, brought me home, and even stayed for a bowl of Miniwheats while I adjusted to having four feet instead of two (see portrait of my new feet, below).
It is odd that my reaction to all of this is to feel blessed. Although I'm in more pain than is really comfortable, I'm not seriously injured. Because of Z's ordeal and now my pratfall I have re-learned that the world is full of wonderful, giving people, people, people like my favorite nephew and his Bride, who charged down like the cavalry to the Bay Area over the weekend and put a smile on my face. (My son the doctor also showed up, last week, and is coming back tomorrow--and his brother, the world-famous TV producer, has called me every single day.) And inexplicably, I'm at peace with the knowledge that I most likely won't be running again for weeks or even months. I hobbled down to the end of the block and back today and felt like a star athlete--good enough for now.
It is spring, and the rosebush outside my front door is more prolific and more beautiful than ever. It was here when I moved into this house in 1983, so it's an old friend.
Today I opened my electronic copy of the Daily Dharma and found a message that really hit me where I live. It was titled "It's Hard Work Being a Control Freak," and the text said, "We don't need to control the world. We don't need to defend ourselves against it. We don't need to preserve anything. We only need to be here--totally, completely, freely--responding to the actual occasion." I realized today as I made my way slowly around on my crutches that this is the lesson I'm being taught. My everyday world for years has been a mad, multitasking frenzy, a world where lining up a predictable future has been the top priority. I'm not saying I've stopped making lists (I haven't). I'm just saying right now I'm being forced to look not only at the far horizon but at the pebbles on the floor, the clouds directly overhead, and the love that flows in and out of my heart as I go along.
Here's something I've heard so often that I think it borders on being a cliche, but it always stops me and clears my head: "Yesterday is only a memory; tomorrow is only a dream. All we have is this moment." True. Not always what I want to admit, but always true.
After prodding, poking, X-raying, and CAT-scanning me, the docs declared I have no broken bones. They gave my own set of nifty crutches, so I'm limping around like Chester. Insert kudos here to my caring friend R., who picked me up from Kaiser in the morning, brought me home, and even stayed for a bowl of Miniwheats while I adjusted to having four feet instead of two (see portrait of my new feet, below).
It is odd that my reaction to all of this is to feel blessed. Although I'm in more pain than is really comfortable, I'm not seriously injured. Because of Z's ordeal and now my pratfall I have re-learned that the world is full of wonderful, giving people, people, people like my favorite nephew and his Bride, who charged down like the cavalry to the Bay Area over the weekend and put a smile on my face. (My son the doctor also showed up, last week, and is coming back tomorrow--and his brother, the world-famous TV producer, has called me every single day.) And inexplicably, I'm at peace with the knowledge that I most likely won't be running again for weeks or even months. I hobbled down to the end of the block and back today and felt like a star athlete--good enough for now.
It is spring, and the rosebush outside my front door is more prolific and more beautiful than ever. It was here when I moved into this house in 1983, so it's an old friend. Today I opened my electronic copy of the Daily Dharma and found a message that really hit me where I live. It was titled "It's Hard Work Being a Control Freak," and the text said, "We don't need to control the world. We don't need to defend ourselves against it. We don't need to preserve anything. We only need to be here--totally, completely, freely--responding to the actual occasion." I realized today as I made my way slowly around on my crutches that this is the lesson I'm being taught. My everyday world for years has been a mad, multitasking frenzy, a world where lining up a predictable future has been the top priority. I'm not saying I've stopped making lists (I haven't). I'm just saying right now I'm being forced to look not only at the far horizon but at the pebbles on the floor, the clouds directly overhead, and the love that flows in and out of my heart as I go along.
Here's something I've heard so often that I think it borders on being a cliche, but it always stops me and clears my head: "Yesterday is only a memory; tomorrow is only a dream. All we have is this moment." True. Not always what I want to admit, but always true.
Comments
I can hardly imagine a lovely rose like that blooming outdoors in April!