“Done FOR you, not TO you” is how we may find gratitude in shit that has befallen us. It doesn’t negate that it was shit, but it keeps one’s mind from imploding.

7 years ago, a friend challenged me to list three things most people didn’t know about me. As an open book, I had to dig. I uncovered the following:

1. When I was a child, I had telepathic conversations with my sister Judy on a regular basis. When I was in 3rd grade, she gave me a book called “Hidden Channels of the Mind.” It scared the telepathy out of me for a couple of years.

2. I had 8 siblings, all of whom were overachievers and I was just an achiever, so thought I lacked intelligence. That wasn’t the case but I didn’t find out until I left my hometown and my circle of friends didn’t know my siblings to compare me to – or perhaps it was I who stopped doing the comparisons.

3. In college, I took an autobiography class and the first line I wrote was, “I am at the pre-fame stage of my career.”

Status quo.

I get so irritated when, to prove I’m not a robot, I am asked the security question: What day comes after Monday?

Half and half pours into a cup of coffee infinitely easier when you remove the cap. Tip #1 from the yet-to-be-written best seller, “HOW TO MAKE A CUP OF COFFEE WHEN YOU HAVEN’T YET HAD A CUP OF COFFEE”.

Zabby-the-Dog just walked into the kitchen where I was cutting off a piece of a King Arthur Flour croissant, pretending I wasn’t going to eat the entire thing, and I said to her, “I’m just emotionally eating. Care to join me?” and she shook her head in what I can only imagine was complete disgust and turned and walked away.

When one has been in pain for 27+ years, it’s sometimes difficult to determine what is just another version of the old and what needs attention.

I first broached the subject of medical marijuana with my primary care years ago after my miracle drug, Naproxen, was no longer recommended as my kidneys were suffering from prolonged use. Her practice was partially federally funded so could not certify, and the idea of adding another physician to my already ridiculously long roster was less than appealing. I asked for a substitute for Aleve – something not processed through the kidneys – and she said she’d look into it. It remained an unanswered request so I went on – literally for years – without proper pain management, in spite of my dear friend (late-great Randy Alexander) assuming the role of President for SAFE ACCESS TENNESSEE (Cannabis IS Medicine) and singing its praises to me. In spite of having nothing calming my head-to-toe inflammation and suffering, his sharing with me everything one needed to know about it as a viable alternative therapy for chronic unrelenting pain still did not spark my interest. Until recently.

When I finally processed that my 5 months of increasing shoulder pain needed to be looked into, I wasn’t really surprised when the MRI came back showing 3 separate rotator cuff tears, but there was no chance that I would agree to surgery before the Covid coast was clear. What to do…what to do…

In addition to a referral for physical therapy, my primary physician wrote a referral to a certifying practice and I had a telehealth appointment this week. Some of the questions were basic (“Do you still work or are you retired?” “Do you live alone?” e.g.). Some of them seemed irrelevant to me (“What is your highest level of education?”). One in particular served as a straight line, and I was happy to respond:

DOCTOR: “Have you ever hurt yourself intentionally?”
ME: “Only self-deprecation, but I don’t think that’s what you’re asking.”

Did you know you can see someone’s deadpan reaction over the phone?

I don’t know if I’ll try the medicine once I receive my registration. There is a fear: Years ago, a friend wrote regarding his chance at a different medication for a different ailment and was having the identical worry. “What if it doesn’t work?” he wrote.

“Steve,” I wrote, “What if it DOES!?”

I’m in your shoes now, Steve.

The older I get, the less unique I want to be. I want to find that my thinking and behavior is shared. To that end, I wonder if it’s true for the majority of functional adults who were bullied, teased, or abused in their early years if, in a subconscious attempt to protect themselves from the unavoidable pain they believe is coming, they are a bit slow in understanding the totality of what is happening: so conditioned to exclusively focus on the task at hand or extract the positive from any given situation in order to optimally function in spite of the perceived oncoming brunt of the verbal or physical onslaught from the worst of their fellow humans…so conditioned to make more happiness than most to counterbalance the sadness…or just hoping to become invisible…to pass under the radar.

This was our previous home. My husband lived there just-shy of 30 years – 17 for me. He built that barn and shed. The barn will last forever if the owners choose to let it. He fenced the property himself. He planted trees and plants and tended to the land so lovingly. You would think that I would remember more than as if it was a movie I’d seen, but details often fade. I do remember where each of our dogs was buried. Late-great Wally the Whittler made signs for them with each name and date. The house has its second owner since we moved. If one had to be in the middle of nowhere, it was the place to be. Now, am so grateful for being in the middle of somewhere.

I shamelessly swear. It’s my only sport. This afternoon in an email exchange with a neighbor I realized that if I have a tombstone, in homage to my existence it will read, “She fucking died.”

You each hold the power to enhance someone’s sense of security in these batshit crazy times. All it takes is stepping out of your fear and focusing on someone other than yourself. You hold the power to make someone laugh, to allow one’s tears to fall, to be present in another’s moment, or to be an even momentary lifeline – to perhaps coordinate getting what is physically needed. Likely, you won’t be able to look in each other’s eyes while you’re working your magic, but don’t lose sight of the fact that when the fear lessens, and the madness calms…you will be seen for who you were…in a moment…when someone was needed…and you were that someone.