For my friends who are under snow this weekend, here’s a view of cherry blossoms at the Huntington’s Japanese garden last Saturday.
The weather has been so sublime here this weekend, that I’ve spent a good deal of my time out on the water. How about you, what are you up to this weekend?
A whole slew of friends came over last weekend to help me “break in” my new couch. If you haven’t yet made it over, I hope you’ll consider dropping by–it’s a very comfy place to sit with a cup of tea and solve the problems of the universe. :)
PS: Aren’t my friends just lovely?
Toby-cat was a gift from my garden. A stray that I’d seen but couldn’t catch. I told a friend that I’d seen a wee kitten haunting my plot, and within a few days this friend brought a clawful unhappy bundle to my front porch:
I remember Toby well — from the moment when she was still just a rumor (“Hey, I think I saw a little kitten wandering around in the gardens! Have you seen it?”) to the first time when I actually met that little rumor face to face (I was down on all fours weeding Y’s garden, so it literally was face to face) and how, — after several false starts — I finally scooped her up in my clothes and brought her, mewing and scratching, to your door.
She was a scrawny little thing, but I just knew, from the loving and concerned way that you’d first told me about her, that you cared so much about her and that your home would be an welcoming place for her.
“Quirky but lovable” — that’s how I’d describe her. It’s not a bad description for us either. :)
We later learned that Toby’s history included an unhappy adoption from the shelter to a family with small children. She was wary and troubled. She quickly learned to love but one soul in this world, and that was our Catgirl.
This evening our vet put our TobyJoy to sleep, after her seizures had escalated to the point where further control with medication seemed unlikely. Her seizures started again a few days ago–small ones at first, then morphing into body-wracking shakes that contorted her small frame backwards and forwards.
Last night when Toby’s seizures began to escalate I texted John, unsure of whether it was appropriate to ask for his support. We exchanged a few messages as Toby writhed in my arms, and as her legs became paralyzed. I was so confused. I didn’t know whether to lean on John–as I had so many times before–or whether this was my own burden to carry. All I knew was that I was hurting and I couldn’t figure out who else to call on. For the past two decades when I’ve been weak, John has stepped in to “fix” the problem, to offer solace, to help me to decide what to do.
As I wavered with indecision, Toby was curled in a ball on my chest–so much like my babies did when they were little. Feeling her weight, wrapping my hands securely around her body, I settled into an armchair and sang some songs. I stroked her fur and told her how much I loved her. I rocked back and forth. I was unsure of what else to do but just be there with her. I alternately prayed she would die and then prayed that she would live. I cried. I hoped. I wondered. And eventually…the morning came. When I needed help getting her into her crate for transport to the animal hospital, I chose to call on my friends rather than John.
Within a few hours John joined me at the vet to ascertain the extent of Toby’s ailment and we decided to put her to sleep to ease her pain. I sat, and John stood uncomfortably nearby as Toby’s doctor explained the procedure and our options. I signed the paperwork. Because Toby-cat was so ill, we got no last visit or chance to say good-bye.
When we settled the bill in the foyer (tears sliding down my cheeks) and reviewed the charges with the cashier, I pointed out some details to John and called him “sweetie.” It was pure instinct to address him that manner (as I always had). The endearment spoken as we stood side by side, working through something hard together. I instantly regretted my slip, not knowing if he had even noticed it, but at the same time feeling an even greater loss than a moment before when all I was mourning was our sweet kitten.
We then walked out to our separate cars, me carrying Toby’s crate and collar.
John’s hands were empty.
A friend sent over this link, letting me know how the words of this song apply to my situation in many ways. I love it for numerous reasons, although it did make me desperately hungry for the ocean as I’m sitting in my office today…(oh, and reminded me how much I need to add some ab-strengthening exercises to my workout routine!)
An excerpt from “Daisies” by Mary Oliver:
…What do I know.
But this: it is heaven itself to take what is given,
to see what is plain; what the sun
lights up willingly; for example–I think this
as I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch–
the suitability of the field for the daisies, and the
daisies for the field.
After realizing how my skewed “sunny-side up” view of the world contributed to the breakup of my marriage (because I simply wasn’t able to see what was in front of my eyes since I was so comfortable in my own view of the world), I decided I should probably tone down my rosy-colored outlook. It seemed that I would be better served by having a more realistic, perhaps even more somber, perspective. I began to wonder if I even really felt the events of my breakup, since even in the dark times so many moments of beauty came bubbling through. And even in the midst of those first few awful days, I could still see so much good on the horizon. What was wrong with me, I wondered, that I didn’t cry and scream and yell and melt into a ball of sorrow? Instead, I wandered gardens and embraced friends and enjoyed my children.
My insistence on optimism is a long-honed skill that stems from the difficulties of living with a disability and the residue of having survived cancer, as well as a variety of other personal setbacks. I simply can’t seem to sit in the midst of a storm without seeing a silver lining. I deliberately choose happiness over sorrow, every time. Like the poem fragment above, I believe in “taking what is given” and seeing the light, whatever difficulties are thrown my way.
But I don’t sit around with my head in the sand denying life’s cruelties, either. For example, for my dissertation research I purposefully chose to study the awfulness of life. Children suffering from horrific incurable diseases. Scores of soldiers dying for want of care. I pore over case studies of bodies mangled by machinery, or injured by the foolishness of quack remedies. I hold these stories in my heart, trying to make sense of a world where people suffer so often and so deeply (and, so needlessly)…
But I think you can know the awful and still see the beauty. Which reminds me of a favorite quote from The Man of La Mancha:
When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams — this may be madness…Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!
If all goes well, today I’ll be getting a new socket for my prosthetic leg. This has been (too) long in coming, mostly because I’ve been traveling or living away from home for the past 6 months. Getting a new socket involves a series of ‘test socket’ fittings and numerous small adjustments to get the fit just right. Even a minor misadjustment can result in painful sores (or, as the case may be, ugly skin infections that result from such sores). So it’s important to be available for adjustments in the weeks that follow after getting the new socket.
Most of all, I’m looking forward to having a leg that doesn’t just “fall off” at random times. Though I think I’ve become rather adept at covering those moments that my limb spontaneously detaches from my body, it’ll be a relief not to have this as a constant concern…
One question that’s on the table for me again is whether to get ‘cosmesis’ (or an aesthetic, symmetric covering) on my leg. I go back and forth on this. I like letting my robotic innards show, but it draws a huge amount of attention in public and it also reinforces my disability in ways that make me uncomfortable. Added to that is the fact that clothes fit oddly when one leg has a normal-to-largeish diameter and the other has a 4″ calf. Perhaps I ought to go with the steampunk look, or go with a new 3-D print fabrication method? I haven’t made up my mind yet…
For further reading, some of my older posts about my leg:
A Photo Tribute to a Well-Traveled Limb
I, Robot
With a Leg to Stand On
The Ocean & Me (where I discuss my ‘beach’ leg)
“So Janie waited a bloom time, and a green time, and an orange time. But when the pollen again gilded the sun and sifted down on the world, she began to stand around the gate and expect things…She knew that God tore down the old world every morning and built a new one at sun-up. It was wonderful to see it take form with the sun and emerge from the grey dust of its making. The familiar people and things had failed her so she hung over the gate and looked up the road a ways off. She knew that marriage did not make love. Jamie’s first dream was dead, so she became a woman.”
~From Their Eyes Were Watching God (via Deborah)
Photo of a rose in the rain at the Huntington Library
Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you.
~Maori Proverb
The picture above is a close-up of the lime tree that’s blooming on my porch right now. I wish I could send the smell along with the image–it’s divine. :)
I spent time with two different close friends yesterday and both said something similar to me about my life since separating from John. Both affirmed how much good has happened for me since then. One even went as far as to say that “only good has come of your splitting.”
I don’t know if I’d wholly agree that it’s all been “good.” After all, it’s been emotionally difficult (even traumatizing) to navigate the realities of sharing the custody of our children, and of facing the future without a spouse at my side.
However…I am the kind of person that tends to rebound quickly from setbacks. That’s a lesson learned from so many difficult experiences early in my life. And I was already headed on an exciting professional trajectory, which in some ways is only made smoother now that I don’t have a partner to negotiate with over the details of my choices, or to distract me from my goals. There’s an absolute headiness that comes from knowing that I’m charting my own course now, and can depend on my own strength to get me there.
I’m reminded of an experience I had taking a friend out paddling for the first time. Usually, I take it pretty easy on those who aren’t used to the physical toll of canoeing–it’s hard work! Often we don’t even make it to the PCH bridge, which is about a mile away from our launch point. However, this friend (a vibrant divorced professional woman) was a powerhouse in the canoe, despite not having an athletic lifestyle. When I asked her about it later, she said that she’d learned many years ago to do things herself: when she remodeled her home, landscaped her yard, and so forth. That being single taught her to tap hidden reserves of strength. I could see that when she paddled and I could see it in her life. And now….I’m learning that lesson, too.
