Tuesday, December 14, 2021

I feel like I should have some profound words here. But I don't

 Life is fluid. It flows.  Time passes.  Sometimes I feel like time doesn't move at all.  I can sit for hours and play solitaire on my phone.  Or knit.  And watch episode after episode of Law and Order or some other murder mystery.   Day after day.  With an occasional change- doing some dishes.  Making myself a sandwich.  Doing laundry.   I am not bored although it sounds boring.   I am pretty something:  content?  happy?  satisfied?  There's not a yes or no answer.   I think that the pandemic had to a large extent contributed to my current state of being.

Almost two years ago now, this all started.  I remember marveling at how little traffic there was compared to before the pandemic.  My full, scribbled on calendar was suddenly empty of entries aside from the occasional dentist appointment.    

I am getting used to the inertia.  

And then some big things happen and change my world.  A friend who is the age of my own daughter is diagnosed with cancer.    Lymphoma.  She has been in and out of the hospital for months.  In more than our.  Her cancer metastaticized to her brain.  She had to have brain surgery.   I don't know what the biopsies will show.   It is so scary.  She has young children who have not been allowed to visit the hospital and see their mommy.  She told her husband that she wants to pursue the most aggressive treatment possible.  Of course she does- she has small children.

Another friend, who is in her 80s is dying.  She has end stage cancer.  I spent several hours at the hospital with her recently.   She hardly opened her eyes.  She has no hair.  She spoke, but only a little.  But she was completely lucid.   She knows that she is dying.  It's just when.  Soon, I am sure.  Her son, who at 48, could be my child, has been working on orchestrating a move for his mother into hospice.   Of course there are roadblocks.  There are not enough beds in the hospice facility so that means that someone must die or move on somehow or another to make room.   

Sitting with my dying friend was not totally sad.  It was sobering.  It was very real.  But it was mostly gentle.  When her back was hurting I was able to offer a back rub.  It didn't make the pain go away, but it helped soothe the pain.    I know that I will miss her.  I already so.

When I was driving home from visiting the hospital I saw the most beautiful sunset.  I pulled over to the side of the road and turned on my flashers so I could get our of the car and just stare at the sky.

Was the world telling me something?  Was the sky opening up a space for another person to join in?



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