what a difference a day makes...

after being dragged through life's wringer, after my father's death, my fractured pelvis, my broken hip, my 3 week recovery at the rehab hospital,  my 2 trips to the E.R. for stomach distress, my recent hospital stay for racing heartbeat and very low blood pressure and the feeling that none of the medical professionals believed my claims of stomach issues...i was finished. stick a fork in me and call me done!  i came home tuesday night tired...frustrated...depressed. having a rare brain disease and rarer side effects (heartrate/blood pressure/gastric issues) makes it impossible to fit neatly into a familiar diagnosis. i have wandered into the medical woods. i am lost. oh, and my stomach still hurts.

gary has been a saint. he has driven me to the E.R. and handed me cold compresses. he has called 911 and comforted me in  the wee hours, when he desperately needed his sleep. he believes me when i tell him something is wrong. i find that comforting, to be believed despite the endoscopy results and the perfect cat scans. gary reminds me that i am not imagining these symptoms as he sorts through my meds, replenishes the water in my humidifier and adjusts the fan in my room.

today,  after nibbling on foods that sit easily in my belly and taking the heart medicine and the stomach acid blockers, i felt mentally worn out.  maybe mildly depressed. i feel like i am on a downward spiral. woe is me. but i took a shower. i got dressed. i made my bed and did my laundry. and i collected the mail...

there was a note from sweet elouise, whose husband, david, had died earlier this summer. she'd included a copy of a patty tana poem read at david's service. post humus. i had chosen the same poem for my father's service in may. and i opened a package from my friend, margaret. a sketchbook and watercolor pencils. hmnn. i suddenly wanted to weep. for my dad. for david. for the kindness of dear friends.

i have been so disjointed, so full of dark despair, lately. but there is hope in a box of colored pencils,  and possibility in the blank pages of a sketchbook.  creating restores peace to my soul. it calms me. i had forgotten but margaret's gift reminded me. it reminded me to stay hopeful.

i didn't draw. but i sat on the back patio and planted a succulent garden in an old tin container. i hobbled with my walker down the path and felt the warm sand against my bare feet. i pulled weeds from my rosemary plants. i searched for tiny pebbles. i picked up twigs. i refilled the dog's water bowl. i savored the autumn afternoon.

thanks, margaret.