Author’s note: I haven’t posted for some time, my apologies. I find myself slowly recovering from eye surgery, winter has descended in full force, and I’m really down. There’s little I can do, simply make it through each day.
I’m not done…yet
I was stuck in bed again, well the couch and bed, recouping from eye surgery. Laser cataract treatment to be exact, finally completed 10 months after the retinal surgery. They basically removed the real lens that was clouded over from the first surgery and popped in a plastic one. All for a measly sum of $1300 out of pocket.
The operation itself wasn’t bad compared to the first one, 30 minutes versus 3 hours. Even the recovery time is a lot easier, I simply have to put two dozen drops in my right eye everyday, don’t bend over and don’t pick up anything more than 10 pounds.
Which is a problem in itself.
Dog number one, Mister Blu, is right at 35 pounds and his sister Lucifer (aka Lucy) is a bit smaller at 33 pounds. I’m the only one capable of corralling them to get their harnesses and saddles on. Okay, no saddles, but you can understand the difficulty involved. It’s like getting a horse ready to ride Mrs. Kyd can’t do it, or maybe pretends she can’t for good reason.
So no walks for a little while as I want to get this eye healed properly.
They are subsequently bored to tears, and look for anything to amuse themselves. They do tend to sleep a lot, which is good for all of us. Luckily they both hate the real cold, and temps this week are hovering at 20 degrees Fahrenheit. Run out the backdoor, check for varmints or vermin, pee and/or poop and right back inside.
Their boredom last night was no different than the past few days.
My wife watched as the two of them had their noses to the floor, sniffing and snorting, slowly following the new found little red and black speck crawling across the living room floor. Intrigued.
”Looks like your dogs have found a friend, “ Mrs. Kyd said to the creature curled under the crocheted couch blanket, meaning me.
“Let me get rid of it.” With that she picked up the little insect, opened the sliding back doors and tossed the poor thing out into the dark night. Of course this disappointed the two dogs to no end, and they both stood noses to the glass.
I had heard her, but at the time didn’t respond, being too sick and tired to care. Well that’s not true, I cared, just there wasn’t much I needed to say or add. That’s what I thought at the time, hindsight proving me wrong once again.
The next morning she got up early so she could beat rush hour and being somewhat of a bull in a china shop she woke me up with the noise, so I roused from the couch to share a coffee.
Doesn’t sound as catastrophic as saying “a cow in a china shop” does it? There’s some things that don’t work genderized. But anyway, suffice to say she doesn’t tip toe around in the dark.
“Look at this spot on my thumb,” she said over her cappuccino.. “I must have done something to it.”
“Looks like,” I mumbled while downing another spoon of yogurt to coat my stomach before having black coffee and a handful of pills.
“Are you sure you’re alright for me to go to the office?”
“Sure hon,” I replied. “The dogs went out, have fresh food and water, so they’re set and I’ll warm up some pasta or something.”
So finally I had the house to myself and intended to do nothing more than lie in bed and binge watch Ozark or True Detective with one eye closed.
So I gathered up the iPhone, iPad, credit card and my little blackbook of passwords, in case I wanted to shop for Christmas, and started up the stairs. Except my two constant companions weren’t with me. Back down the stairs.
I’m getting smarter at least. Usually once I get settled in and comfy laying on the bed upstairs, one or both dogs will demand my attention. Then I have to get up, back down the stairs and let them out to pee again, or Blu will sit at the side of the bed waiting impatiently to be picked up.
This time before I got settled I was smart enough to look for them, and sure enough they were looking out the back door, again. So I went through the kitchen and slid the door open, making sure to stay out of the way. The sun was up and bright, but the cold sank right through you.
For some damn reason, I looked down and right outside the door was the ladybug, the dog’s new found friend. Frozen solid but bright with red dotted with the little black spots that name the creature. Frozen and dead as a doornail.
Ladybugs, like many insects, congregate and overwinter in a shelter to stay out of the elements. They congregate in large numbers under house siding or inside the eaves, attics or windowsills. Outdoors they seek piles of leaves, hollowed out old trees or forest floor debris. They huddle together and hope the best man wins. Meaning survives the winter to emerge in the spring once again.
Insects don’t actually hibernate, but go into an inert state, shutting down their metabolism to reserve the food stored in their bodies. But they don’t survive long out in the open at 20 degrees.
Bitter cold killed this one, but I picked it up and took it inside and set it on the kitchen counter. I guess it didn’t find the pheromone trail or other congregation signs that it was time to seek shelter before it was too late. The party had moved on without him. << I can’t help but feel a bit sad here for the ladybug
I then remember the conversation with Mrs K the night before, the dogs chasing a ladybug, and her solution like everyone else in the world.
So why didn’t I take action? I suddenly felt responsible for the bugs’ demise, like I just stepped on it without care. All I had to say was “put it in the garage” and the little predator, a beneficial insect, might have had a fighting chance to come out of there the next spring.
I just looked at the poor thing on the marble counter. I felt I had killed it. Like a 6 year old I felt myself wishing for a miracle, wishing for a twitch of a leg or the wing cover open. But I knew better as an old man..
If I had been feeling better, and not just home from another surgery, I probably would have picked up the creature and taken it out to the garage myself. The garage stays above freezing, with plenty of little nooks, cracks and crannies to crawl into to overwinter.
Maybe it was because I was so damn tired and not feeling well, dealing with more health issues, that the sadness had an easy target. I began to spin while standing still, my mind in overdrive. I’m mentally ill, remember that Kyd.
Somehow, in a matter of 2 hours, my mind had sorted through life, death, sorrow and sadness. Existence and the meaning of life,belief in gods, after life and of course death itself. I thought I had the answers, and none of them were right.
I have long been a student of Zen Buddhism, and my beliefs as an existentialist are intertwined with the ultimate desire to achieve some sort of enlightenment and escape this journey once and forever. Buddhism teaches that to live is to suffer, and if a person doesn’t let go of all worldly ideals they will be born again, only to live and suffer once more.
I won’t bore you to death with all the thoughts and ideas and madness that was floating in my head, that’s another post or two.
At the end of this round of self reflection, I believed my life to be just as important as the ladybug’s. And just as unimportant. Meaningless and empty.
For the past week now I have been stuck in this quicksand of depression.
In mourning the small ladybug, I celebrated the miracle of its life also.
It mattered, it existed. I acknowledge its place in the world.
So do we matter? Who the hell knows. I’m leaning toward nope, but we should try.
Once again I have to fight my way back out of the darkness. Another type of winter has set in.
I still wish I had simply put it in the garage.