And I snapped this photo. I’m a water girl – a true Scorpio. The symphony of verdant lushness coupled with glimmers of sunshine dancing upon this stunning azure lake called out for me to plunge in. But, alas, it has been twenty-four years since I felt water against my skin. My disability only allows me bed baths with damp wash cloths. Hardly suitable for a water baby like me.
Besides that, we were driving much too fast to stop and luxuriate in the moment. I had ten minutes to reach my doctor’s office. If not for the much-desired appointments, I can only connect with the world by way of staring outside through my bedroom window, turning on my laptop, or watching TV.
Confinement strangely invites me to live vicariously via these avenues. It helps me escape the monotony of my life. Every day with the exception of an alternating weekend day, a variety of health care workers visit me. Two CNA’s (aids) assist me five days a week, four nursing case managers from my various agencies schedule to see me up to six times a month, my wound nurse attends to me every other day, and then there is a never-ending emails and paperwork that need my attention, as well as dealing with the slew of phone calls I receive at any given moment and my other usual daily activities. My CNAs, nurse, and physical therapist (all of whom I love dearly) need to manipulate my body in painful ways to care for me. My fifteen plus medications are simply for maintenance. No cure exists for my battered, broken body.
As they say, it is what it is. But, when I gaze at this photo, I feel a gentle breeze spraying soft droplets, moistening my face. I taste its freshness on the tip of my tongue. If only I could dip my foot into a pool, lake, or ocean before I leave this earth. How lovely that would be.
For some bizarre reason, suffering is a part of life. Who can really understand this? Not me.
However, a brightly burning ember flickers inside of me. It encourages me, strengthens my hope, and evokes an inexplicable inner joy that makes me smile. Go figure.