Fun Moves

 

My word of the year is Move. I picked it because with all the physical and emotional challenges thrown my way last year, I really felt the need to move on. Maybe the truth is I was desperate to move away from all the pain, shock, and fear that dominated my life last year. 

I’ve learned it takes more time to heal than I thought. I’m not a patient person. But looking back, I can see I am moving forward and healing is happening. 

Making is fun. 

I love to make things. Working with my hands is calming and centering and, well fun too. I’m grateful for the chance to create almost everyday. It doesn’t have to be a work of art, either. Baking cookies. Crocheting hats or blankets or pillows. Even making a flower arrangement is fun. 

My husband found his fun this week, too. He’s been building a radio controlled plane! I’m so happy to see him having fun putting together this complicated working plane. 

This week, I had a new idea I wanted to make out of clay. Don’t ask me exactly what they are because I’m not sure what to call them. I just saw it in my mind’s eye and let my hands do the work. I started out just making one but before the week was out, I’d make three. 

Moving from pain to play. 

I’ve still got some health issues to resolve but it’s moving along. At last, I see a bright, sunny light at the end of this difficult tunnel. And I think one of the most important factors in getting well is finding something to do that’s fun. 

Clay is play for me. It’s soothing and quiet and soft. And creating something new from a slab of cool clay is, well, just fun. 

Moving through change is a challenge

It takes time, day by day

To find a way to play

To discover some new fun moves. 

A Quiet Christmas

I didn’t plan it. I didn’t expect it. But sometimes life just takes over whether you want it to or not. And sometimes, it saves your life. 

Ok, here’s the story. I woke up and felt sick. The kind of sick you can’t ignore anymore and believe me, I had become an expert in ignoring it for months. But on this morning, it was not going to let me ignore it anymore. It scared me enough to make me head to the local urgent care. 

Luckily, I was seen right away. The nurse, doctor and tech staff were all patient, good listeners and soon had a diagnosis. I had diverticulitis. Which, I have found out is very common in adults over the age of 40. A prescription for antibiotics was phoned in, a CT scan was scheduled asap and I was sent home. 

Two days later, I went in for a CT scan and the diagnosis was the same: diverticulitis. I was relieved. A course of antibiotics and I would be fine. Right? 

Emergency Hell.

At 5pm that same day, I got a call from the urgent care doctor telling me to go to the Emergency Room ASAP. I was shocked. Stunned. I tried to talk him out of it. He said, “NO, you have to go to the hospital. NOW.”

So, in a panic, my husband drove to St. Vincent’s. We checked into the emergency room. We found a bench and waited for two hours. Just as we were getting up to leave, they called us into an emergency room.

Next thing I knew, I was admitted and taken to the surgical floor. I was told I needed a procedure to drain an abscess in my colon. I was set up with several antibiotic IV. I was terrified. But I had great nurses, who helped me understand what was going on. A young doctor came in and explained what they were going to do. The next day I had a procedure to drain the abscess. By the following day, I was allowed to go home with many instructions.

Cancelling Christmas. 

It was a very hard decision. We had all the presents, food arranged but it was decided with my condition and little  grandchildren with colds that we had to cancel our Christmas Day celebration. I was upset, but I knew it was for the best. 

Instead, my husband and I just hunkered down by the fire. I read, sipped tea and looked at the lovely lighted tree. I talked and video chatted with my kids. Nibbled on holiday cookies brought by a friend. And tried hard to see the bigger picture. 

Goodness and gratefulness.                                                                                                                                                                               

Thank goodness for my husband for doing the heavy lifting: wound care, medicines, groceries, cooking, cleaning and moral support. I’m so grateful for my great kids who took care of the dog and ran grocery errands. I’m grateful for the kind nurses, doctors and imaging staff. I’m grateful so, so grateful to the doctor who insisted I go to the hospital, he probably saved my life. 

Sometimes life throws you a big curve.

Listen to your body. 

Be brave. 

Don’t fight it out of fear. 

Trust it.  And help it heal.