Today is my birthday - I woke up tired, discouraged, with a soup-thick brain fog. This is sure not my happiest birthday.
I had an appointment with my rheumatologist this morning and an appointment this afternoon for a haircut. Today was my first "I-don't-want-to-leave-the-house" day since Greg died. I mean I REALLY didn't want to leave the house.
Dressed, keys in hand, ready to leave. I started to cry.
"What's wrong," Michael asked, concerned. (9:30am is early in the day for a meltdown)
"I don't want to go", I cried.
Michael (always ready to help), "Is this just a regular check-in visit? Do you have to go? Can you reschedule?"
Me, still crying (but not as hard), "I need to go. We need to talk about my visit to Penn Lung Center last month and see if there's any additional plan."
Then I thought... "Really... what am I? 7-years-old? Crying about going to the doctor? Really???"
The absurdity of the whole thing was enough to stop the tears. I like my rheumatologist. After 15 years, it's kind of like visiting a friend... kind of. The meltdown wasn't about a doctor's visit. It's a sad birthday for me and I was feeling overwhelmed.
Anyway... I went. It was pretty routine... talked about Penn... when am I going next. December? Okay. He wants me back in January. More blood work - follow up. Half an hour - in and out. Done.
Home again with an hour and a half to make today's bracelets before I had to leave for the haircut appointment.
Things were buzzing in the basement. Our new helper was pulling orders. My neighbor was taking pictures to post on the site. AND... we had two customers who were on their way from Pennsylvania (near Bucknell) to Rehoboth and decided to stop and see us on their way.
In the middle of all the chaos, my tomato friend (let's call her Carol) and her husband stopped by to bring me flowers and a beautiful card for my birthday. I was totally gobsmacked! My goal for the day was to lay low and get through it - no fuss - no fanfare - just get through. I did not expect this visit - and the gorgeous flowers. I am overwhelmed with Carol's kindness.
On to the haircut. John (let's call him that) has cut my hair for the last 20+ years. It's always good to see John and his receptionist (let's call her Karen) who has been with him ever since he opened his own shop. We've shared a lot together over all those years. It was a pretty easy couple of hours. (and the portable oxygen worked great).
I took the scenic route home past Hoopes Reservoir - a beautiful and relaxing ride through the Brandywine Valley.
I had an appointment with my rheumatologist this morning and an appointment this afternoon for a haircut. Today was my first "I-don't-want-to-leave-the-house" day since Greg died. I mean I REALLY didn't want to leave the house.
Dressed, keys in hand, ready to leave. I started to cry.
"What's wrong," Michael asked, concerned. (9:30am is early in the day for a meltdown)
"I don't want to go", I cried.
Michael (always ready to help), "Is this just a regular check-in visit? Do you have to go? Can you reschedule?"
Me, still crying (but not as hard), "I need to go. We need to talk about my visit to Penn Lung Center last month and see if there's any additional plan."
Then I thought... "Really... what am I? 7-years-old? Crying about going to the doctor? Really???"
The absurdity of the whole thing was enough to stop the tears. I like my rheumatologist. After 15 years, it's kind of like visiting a friend... kind of. The meltdown wasn't about a doctor's visit. It's a sad birthday for me and I was feeling overwhelmed.
Anyway... I went. It was pretty routine... talked about Penn... when am I going next. December? Okay. He wants me back in January. More blood work - follow up. Half an hour - in and out. Done.
Home again with an hour and a half to make today's bracelets before I had to leave for the haircut appointment.
Things were buzzing in the basement. Our new helper was pulling orders. My neighbor was taking pictures to post on the site. AND... we had two customers who were on their way from Pennsylvania (near Bucknell) to Rehoboth and decided to stop and see us on their way.
In the middle of all the chaos, my tomato friend (let's call her Carol) and her husband stopped by to bring me flowers and a beautiful card for my birthday. I was totally gobsmacked! My goal for the day was to lay low and get through it - no fuss - no fanfare - just get through. I did not expect this visit - and the gorgeous flowers. I am overwhelmed with Carol's kindness.
On to the haircut. John (let's call him that) has cut my hair for the last 20+ years. It's always good to see John and his receptionist (let's call her Karen) who has been with him ever since he opened his own shop. We've shared a lot together over all those years. It was a pretty easy couple of hours. (and the portable oxygen worked great).
I took the scenic route home past Hoopes Reservoir - a beautiful and relaxing ride through the Brandywine Valley.
I stopped at a stop sign - for about - oh - maybe 5 minutes. A man pulled up behind me in a white truck. He sat there for at least 2-3 minutes. Finally, he started to pull around me, and it was instantly clear to me that I had been waiting in vain for the stop SIGN to turn green - so I waved at the man in the truck - a wave that said "I'm-so-sorry-I'm-crazy-stupid" (I'm sure he could read all that in my wave) - and headed on down the road with the truck man behind me (at a safe and cautious distance).
The truck man didn't honk his horn when he pulled up behind me. He could have. He could have been one of those people who lean on their horn if you stop at a stop sign too long. Most people would have honked - at least a little beep.. He did not. He waited, giving me every chance to move - and then he simply started to pull around me. It was a small kindness, maybe, but it made a huge impression on me.
The birthday I dreaded was filling up with kindnesses - and I was humbled and grateful.
When I arrived home, I just missed the delivery of a special treat from my youngest son, Scott, and his family from Edible "something". There is chocolate covered EVERYTHING in this box. My favorite? Chocolate covered apples. Incredible. The gift was thoughtful - typical of them - and a very special gift. When things are rough, knowing that people you love are thinking about you is HUGE. Again.. so grateful.
The phone rang at about 8:00 and it was my oldest son calling from his car with his daughter and her friend - on their way home from soccer practice. Richard wished me a happy birthday and then the girls sang to me - SO loud - and so great, it made me laugh out loud. Two 10-year-old girls sounded like a half dozen. Impressive! (Richard said there's a present too... but really... who cares about a present)
When I hung up the phone, I found a text message from my daughter-in-law, Julie, with a video of Brynn singing happy birthday to me. (Taken on their way home from Brynn's soccer practice) I don't think there could be a sweeter voice in the world than Brynn's.
There were some highs and some thoughtfulness today in between the lows. Michael navigated the mine field called Jane with skill and dexterity (and a lot of love and patience).
Michael: "Would you like to go out for dinner for your birthday?"
Me: "No, I really don't feel like going out."
Michael: "Okay. Would you like me to go get us something from Mr. Pasta?"
Me: "No, I don't feel like pasta."
Michael: "How about a steak sandwich and fries?"
Me. "Nothing sounds good to me, Michael. I don't think I need dinner tonight. Let's skip it."
Michael: "I'm willing to do whatever you want. How can I help?"
I know decisions are difficult for me this summer, but... wow. Michael had done everything but stand on his head. I am so grateful for all he does for me. Time to get it together and decide... something... anything. Give the poor man a break.
So, what did I decide I wanted for my big old birthday dinner? Hot dogs. Yup. Michael makes a mean hot dog - and he was happy to make them for us. Hot dogs and corn on the cob. What could be better?
It was a long day. Greg was on my mind all day. I miss him terribly. Holidays of any kind are just plain hard. I was going to say "this year", but I have a feeling that every holiday forever will have an edge of sadness.
I also know that there are unbelievable kindnesses everywhere. I know that God shows his love and caring through people like Michael - and Carol, my children and their families - a friend of 20 years - and even a man driving a truck whose behavior is gentle and kind in a situation where "gentle and kind" is not the norm. It's always there, even on the days when I can't see it.
I've asked what "healing" is... and I still have no idea. Maybe healing is being open enough to see God's hand - to feel his touch. Maybe it happens a little at a time. Maybe hope comes in glimpses - little flashes of light in the darkness. Maybe?
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