The Week that Was (not so great)

This was not a banner week.

To begin with, I missed my yoga class on Monday for reasons that I cannot now recall – most likely unavailable transportation or a pang of pain.

Then, midweek, I was obligated to meet with a rehab specialist, c/o my insurance company who may (or may not) have been seeking to question the veracity of my claim. Did Evelyne merely forget our phone conversation when she suggested we settle into a table at the café where we’d arranged to meet? Or was she attempting to catch me off-guard, waiting to see if I would unthinkingly sit when asked to do so? It was not the most auspicious of meetings, to say the least. But, as she noted defensively, she was merely doing her job. Ah yes…

Then Thursday. A red-letter day. Or perhaps, more accurately, a pink-letter day. Surgery for OJ. I wanted nothing more than to be there for her, but abided by her request to stay put, for now. So after a late-night phone call the night before, another one to her cell phone in the morning, I hung up and thought: what now?

I knew I had to keep busy. Good thing I was beholden to my physio exercises, which took up nearly 1-1/2 hours. All to the soothing tunes of J.T. They kept me focused. They kept me sane. Then they ended, I looked at the clock and wondered: where is she now?

After a quick bite, I decided to devote a chunk of time to doing art – healing for my body and soul… and hers. So I sunk the rose quartz crystal into my pocket, where it would be nestled closest to my body, and began a collage project – one that I’d tossed around in my mind for the past month. Here was the perfect opportunity: Distraction with purpose. I spent the better part of the day indulging myself in cutting + pasting – the old-fashioned way!

The hours passed at an agonizingly slow snail’s pace. It felt like the day would never end, that the phone call would melt into the possibilities for tomorrow and I’d be collage-ing well into the next day. Then the call came, a burst of energy on the other end, laughter and (for me, at least) a sense of tentative calm.

… which lasted just long enough to carry me over into the next morning. And the next pink-tinted appointment, at a local hospital, with Dr. B., a radiation oncologist whose preliminary bedside manner, on a scale of 1-10, tottered dangerously close to zero. Not the type of behavior to instill even a smidgen of confidence while we tightrope through this overwhelming and emotionally trying predicament.

With time, Dr. B. lightened up and turned to face us instead of the computer screen. We asked a battery of questions: When. How. Why. How long. Why this and not that. What if… What if not… We were not out to question his professional opinion, rather we needed answers to our well-informed (and researched) questions. No doubt, it was a tough chat. But it had to be done. And, all things considered, she held up – pointed questions and all – as best as she could.

As I wrote earlier, it was not the easiest of weeks. Perhaps it was not the worst of times, but it was certainly far from the best. So I dig deep down into my soul and spirit, looking for courage and patience, hope and optimism, grateful that our collective good health, though careening through rough seas right now, remains mostly intact. Amen.

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