Returned from the Family Reunion (more about that later) with a head cold. The pressure in my head got worse, and worse, and worse. The doctor said ear infection and sinus infection. And my head agreed, but I was feeling bad all over. Doc sends me home with antibiotics. The pressure gets worse and then I start bleeding out of my ear and nose. Call the doctor; Doc says, Good your ear drum has burst to release the pressure. You will start getting better now. I roll around in a fetal position for several days. But I start to feel better. Today, my head still feels like it is stuck inside a bucket and there is a continuous ringing in my ear, not to mention the loss of hearing. But today I am feeling better. I can stand up without holding on to things for support and walk a straight line without weaving again.
It is strange when the doctor is glad that things have finally broken. But I guess that is what has to happen before humans can really get over things, really get better, really heal. I was sitting on my front porch in the sunshine watching the grass and dandelions making a mockery of my attempts at order in the garden and I realized that those wild spots, where the dandelions spray yellow against the silver gray of the wood shed, where the high grass surrounds the bird bath in a green and golden halo of movement and light, those wild spots are the most beautiful parts of the yard. It takes the attempt at order and the resurgent rebellion of life refusing to conform to my plans to make the most beautiful parts of my little life.
I will try to put my life back in order now. I will go back to work and see how the projects are going. I will balance the check book and make plans for me and my family. But hopefully I have been broken enough by my illness, broken enough by the unexpected, broken enough by the wildness of life to truly start to heal.
I feel better. There are dogs and children in the grass. And my ass has picked up splinters from the old wood that makes up my creaky old porch. This is a precious, fragile life I am living.
It is strange when the doctor is glad that things have finally broken. But I guess that is what has to happen before humans can really get over things, really get better, really heal. I was sitting on my front porch in the sunshine watching the grass and dandelions making a mockery of my attempts at order in the garden and I realized that those wild spots, where the dandelions spray yellow against the silver gray of the wood shed, where the high grass surrounds the bird bath in a green and golden halo of movement and light, those wild spots are the most beautiful parts of the yard. It takes the attempt at order and the resurgent rebellion of life refusing to conform to my plans to make the most beautiful parts of my little life.
I will try to put my life back in order now. I will go back to work and see how the projects are going. I will balance the check book and make plans for me and my family. But hopefully I have been broken enough by my illness, broken enough by the unexpected, broken enough by the wildness of life to truly start to heal.
I feel better. There are dogs and children in the grass. And my ass has picked up splinters from the old wood that makes up my creaky old porch. This is a precious, fragile life I am living.
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