"The pupil dilates in darkness and in the end finds light, just as the soul dilates in misfortune and in the end finds God." - Victor Hugo, Les Miserables. For a man who has predicted 15 of the last two financial explosions. A man who worries about pole shifts and other zombie apocalypses (Like WWIII, say, for example.) A man who would like to lure friends and family into gardening so they might be more resilient should we take a giant leap backwards. You would think that I woulda seen this coming!
My 69th year on earth has been filled with missteps, stupidity and pain. I am not a multi-tasker. If I am focused on one thing I can keep up. Two things and I always break something. I'm the student, nothing brilliant just good 'gentleman Cs' or as the report cards always had me "Does not work up to potential'! A raspberry to you all my old teachers - Happy counts too! Climb to the top of the ladder and those falls hurt. It was not a ladder that got me this time but more like a shovel to the back of the head.
In about 2 weeks time I went from being a pretty healthy 69 year old to feeling like a 90 year old man. I went from thinking it was time to add high intensity intervals and bump the weights up a notch in the gym to barely able to finish Bob's senior stretch class at the Y. ...from wondering why my pillow was leaving me ache in the morning to trying to navigate the upsides and down of opioids vs over the counter pain relief. The next two months I went from a surgery on my neck to an acupuncturist/acupressurist to a new doctor all with glimpses of relief, but just glimpses.
During those two months I been lucky to have a wonderful wife, dogs that adjusted their pace as we shuffled around the block, friends and family with advice and sympathy and generally a reserve of resources that gave me some measure of resilience. I've also been grumpy, short fused, angry, you know all your better qualities of 90 year old men. But still, a shovel to the back of the head! The glimpses of relief have almost been a horrible torturer's tease as they've been replaced by deep pain and dark thoughts. Dear Lord what do you want?
I say this last bit because this year of my life I've decided to reconnect with my Catholic roots (50 years lapsed!). I decided to fake it and see if the practice would overcome the lack of faith. I literally was the agnostic sitting in the pew hoping lightning wasn't going to strike. My agnostic self could see more than a few mountains on the road to faith and purpose but I prayed for a sign. I don't know if there is a God, if Christ is divine, or the Pope infallible. Catholicism has it's rituals and beliefs that one would be hard pressed to not ascribe to superstition, storytelling, and bending to preexisting religions to aid in conversion. Moreover in a line on superstition I heard from Cheech Marin, "We Catholics are always looking for a sign". A sign, Lord but what is it you want?!
Today is a relatively good day and as I sat reading, the line from Victor Hugo stood out for me. It came from THE BOOK OF CHARLIE a light read about the stoic essence of a real 102 year old man. Is this the sign Lord? 'cause I have had reflective moments (sometimes whiny but reflective none the less). I do see the 'growth' aspect of of a good shovel to the back of the head. I've arrived at this 69th year as about the luckiest man in the world. Not the hardest working but happy. I arrived in this world a white male American in the later half of the 20th century with 2 good parents with good genes. I somehow managed to meet and marry a babe who it turned out is also a good person while being handed opportunities that left me financially comfortable. Reflective moments looking for that sign reminded me of the nature of luck. Did I live up to my potential? Do I need more empathy for those who turned left where I turned right? As I know how thin those forks in the road were.
The world dances on the edge of WWIII. Financial collapse is as close as it's ever been and the poles are moving. And yet today is a relatively good day. Out my office window cow peas, melons, sage, okra, and runner beans are growing. No the garden has not produced much for our plate this year but with May and June all but ripped out of the calendar signs say there is hope.
Doug A.
P.S. Pain can be funny too - If you survive it!
In the midst of this I stepped out of a really nice long hot shower. As I grabbed for the towel I was immediately woozy and said self - "You are going to pass out!" Our bathroom has tile floors and it flashed through my mind you hit that from 6 feet up you'll break your nose - sit down! I couldn't see the toilet but we have one of those corner jetted tubs that we never use. Pretty but more hassel than it's worth, so Deb keeps the cat's litter box in it to keep the dogs from it.
I sit on the tubs edge and do indeed pass out. As I wake up I'm naked wet and sprawled back on the plastic roof of the litter box. My 1st thought is "I am not telling Deb about this - she'll just make a big thing out of it". My second thought is the hard plastic roof under my back is bending and about to crack. A crack which I envision sending a shard of plastic into my spine crippling me for life, or just me laying in cat poop. My arms are having a bad day and I'm kinda only able to use them like a T-Rex. I can't grab the spigot or anything else. I'm like a turtle on my back, bent too far backwards to sit up and unable to roll over. The roof is crushing under me.
I yell for Deb! I can hear her at the other end of the house but the bathroom door is snugly closed and I can tell she'll never hear me. Fear kinda jumps into my mind - "What if she heads out on some morning chore! How will the paramedics find me - all covered in cat turds!!
Thankfully, Deb comes back down the hall, I bellow like a cow. She saves me. The End!
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