Or is that the other way around, perhaps the bad with the good? Either way life has its ups and downs, I just happen to have more of the latter. I could give up and give in, but can’t. Not yet anyway.
The other morning I woke up early, when the missus was out of town for a few days on business. She left only after I reassured her I would be okay and could look after the three of us. At least the dogs would be fine.
I’d been bedridden for the last 6 days. Apparently I’ve developed a serious food allergy of some kind, but we have yet to figure out what exactly. We’re narrowing it down to pork, seafood, and/or a variety of spices. Okay, that’s not too narrow. This is the second time in 2 months this has occurred. It takes a full week until I feel half way normal, a full week of hell. In the last 40 days I’ve spent 18 in bed. Most of those I couldn’t even manage feeding the dogs.
I’m lucky to have such a great wife and realize that more and more each day. In the end the love of someone is the only important part of this life. It’s taken me years to understand that.
What happens is I get horrible stomach cramps followed by nonstop trips to the bathroom, lasting a full day. It starts 12 ours or so after eating one of the suspected foods. Yeah I know, just stop eating. One day of violent illness, and then I’m wiped out. Severely drained and nauseated beyond belief. I have a prescription for ondansetron, prescribed for the severe nausea from chemo or radiation. It helps, but not a lot.
The following week was spent in bed or on the couch, not sleeping but not awake either. Just waiting for the nausea to subside. I’d crawl downstairs every few hours for a smoke, a sip of ginger ale and a couple saltine crackers, then back up to lay in the fetal position. The television was on, but I have no idea what was airing at the time. CNN jabbered on and on mainly, nonsense now.
So this morning, as I staggered up the stairs and into the master bath I got a full glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked bad, real bad. I didn’t even recognize myself for a second. I looked old. In the same black t-shirt and sweatpants I’ve had on for the last 5 days. I haven’t showered or shaved in that time and my face looked drawn and tired. Old man stubble covered my face, and I looked homeless, poor.
I look like I’d been to hell and back, and felt the same.
I had to make the effort. That’s the point of this post, a reminder to myself that no matter how bad you feel and horrible you look you have to make the effort. I have to try to keep going as if it matters, even though I ‘m certain it doesn’t. Matter that it. Almost certain, but not quite.
It was then I realized how easy it would be to give up caring, especially caring about myself. Just let go and quit caring. I can just imagine me growing old like this, becoming a shut-in, wandering around the house in sweat pants and a grundgy old tee shirt and not bothering with the rest of the world.
Leave me alone and I’ll leave you all be.
Not yet though, I’m not quite at that stage. Mentally close, but also determined to keep going, that small spark reminding me I’m human. Not ready to be left at the side of the road while the rest of the world passes by. I haven’t reach that point.
A shower and clean clothes help, I feel some life coursing through me once again.
I walk the two dogs, they are happy to have me back. They’re too much to handle for my wife, since they listen to no one. This past week has been going out the back and chasing each other for entertainment. But today they get a good walk in, out and about.
I say hi to the neighbour, another hello to the old man with the walker. Ask him how he’s doing, how he”s getting along. If he needs anything.
He must be 20 some years my senior. Close to 90 I’m thinking. Each day he’s out with his walker heading the five or six blocks to the drug store and fruit market next door. Then back again, his bags of purchases hanging from the handles of the walker, one on each side.
Tiny steps, thousands of tiny steps. Every day he’s out, making his way to market. It seems to be he’s been doing this as long as I can remember, since we moved into the neighbourhood.
I don’t know his story…yet. But I take strength in his determination, his desire to continue on his way one small step at a time. Always a smile on his face, he continues to walk.
I’ll do the same. Just continue to keep walking with a smile on my face, whether I feel it or not.