Summer #19: You're okay.

Summer #19: I saw the chiropractor today. He had looked at my MRIs and said that there's "chaos" in the architecture of my neck muscles. He also said that there has been a lot of atrophy (I seem to have fat in the back of my neck. Will the horrors never cease?) and in order to maintain current function, I should have regular massage--that without it, I'll lose function. The loss of function in my neck is disappointing. The prospect of further massages is not.

On the number 3 bus on the way home, I didn't notice a man in a wheelchair coming off and didn't move my feet out of the aisle to make way, so he bumped my arms and legs. He apologized profusely (something the person who ran over my toes never did), and I said, "You're okay," meaning he didn't hurt me and could go forward. Though his speech was quite gutteral and garbled, I clearly heard, "No. I am not okay." I acknowledged his clairty: "No. Me neither." We smiled at one another, and he rolled off the bus.

Mostly, I am okay. I am healing enough to enjoy the outdoors again and to get around on the bus. I can read on my kindle and bike on my trike. I get to write my blog. My partner supports me, and we play together. My family loves me but does not take any guff off me. I am about to be working again. (End of summer has a very different meaning for teachers than for parents.) I experience joy and notice grace in my life every day. My primary emotional state is gratitude.

Sometimes, though, I remember how much I have changed, and I grieve for what I've left behind. Brain surgery isn't the only time I've experienced loss, of course, and each time I feel loss I also remember how much life can follow loss.

So, yeah. I'm okay. Mary