Saturday, May 4, 2013

I Don't Want To Know

I Don't Want To Know

I know things I don't want to know.
I hear things I don't want to hear.
I hear them through purple curtains that sling from right to left, left to right, designed to compartmentalize the stories, the songs, the symphony.  But the curtains don't do their job.  There is no separation here, there is only the illusion of private journeys.  I hear everything. 
Remove the curtains, so all can view the parts that previously were discordant voices that must transform themselves into a miraculous euphony. For we are a tribe and should sing together. It's not that.

I know things I don't want to know.  I know what TPN is,  I know C-Diff, ITP, CMV.  I know what Flex Sig is, Ostomy, Ileostomy, Ileom, Pick lines, J-Pouch, G-Pouch, Colectomy, Remicade, Humira, Dilaudid, Dificid, Flexeril, Vancocin, Lialda, 6MP, Asacol, Lyrica.  Do you know these things?

I know what the beeps mean, especially the long, drawn out, slow beep... the beep that means there is air in the line.  I know the people that come rushing to that sound.  I know the colors that change on the monitors, the codes called over the speakers. I know the resounding, long, rhythmic beep of air stopping to the lungs.  I know the faces of the others that sing that same song.  I just know....

I see things I don't want to see.  The turned down smiles of the kind nurses when they see it's not working. They try.  I see.

I thought we already defined our time by before that and after that.
I was wrong.
Our time is now defined by before this and after this.
And we're not After This yet.

I know things, hear things, see things that I don't want to. 


Sunday, January 13, 2013

Driving The Future

There are certain days that mark both a beginning and an end of something large.  You know those days.  They are bittersweet with the conflicting feelings of joy and sadness swimming together in  the vast container of your heart.  Yesterday was one of those days....and the splashing around is lingering into today.

Those of you who read my blog know that I am comfortable sharing details of my life that some might feel are inappropriate to share in such an open forum.  Perhaps I am comfortable to do this because I am an open book, and feel that if I learned or felt or experienced something deeply personal that maybe somebody else is also feeling or experiencing something similar and might benefit from reading my thoughts on the subject.  Or, perhaps,  I am simply narcissistic.  I've been called a megalomaniac once.  Hell, I don't know.  Either way, this is what happened yesterday.

My son nailed a job in Santa Monica a few days ago.  He's a server/busboy/delivery person/doanythingthebosstellsyou at a Thai restaurant in Westwood.  For the last year, his car has been safely housed in my garage waiting for this day.  The deal was this....
Mom:  Get a job, make some money and the car is yours.
Him: Moooom, it's hard to get a job without a car.
Mom: I know.  Do it anyway.

He did and I knew the feeling he would have when he accomplished something on his own would be something he would remember for the rest of his life and perhaps even change his life.  I knew this because I was guilty of making things too easy for him his whole life.  He rarely had to work hard for anything.  Yes, I was THAT parent.  I didn't realize it while I was doing it, I only realized it once our entire world exploded and we were forced to drastically change direction and re-evaluate every position, decision and action.  No more easy.  No more gimmes.  No more coddling and giving in.  Life doesn't hand you things just because you want them.  "Work, damn it, and the car is yours.  Oh, and by the way, you're paying for your gas, and insurance. Oh, and did I mention that if you lose your job the car comes back?"  Yea, I've now become THAT parent. 

I got the call yesterday morning, "Mom, they want me to deliver tonight and I need to come down and get my car."  He was thrilled.  I was petrified.  You see, for the last year, Noah was in a very safe environment in Santa Monica.  He didn't have wheels so he couldn't venture out too much.  There was some comfort and safety in those circumstances for me.  Without getting into the details of the situation, you're gonna have to trust me on this one.  I liked the fact that he was a bit grounded in a sense.  But a deal's a deal.

So he took the train down from LA yesterday to fetch his Jeep.

His dad was kind enough to get it serviced and cleaned for him (thank God it started!).

We frantically got him insurance (thank God for Progressive and their willingness to take risks.... although it comes with a price tag).

As Noah printed out his insurance card and gathered some belongings into his car, THE feeling(s) came over me. At once I was so incredibly happy for him that he was growing up... had a job, going to college, paying for his car.  And then the panic filled me.  He can go anywhere... he can do anything.... I cannot control his environment (by the way, I never could...I just thought I was!). 

I stood outside by the front door, as he got into his car.  I watched him carefully adjust the mirrors, put his seat in the correct spot, plug his music into the place he plugs his music into and I waited for the car and my son to drive into his future.  He stalled a bit.... I could tell he was a tad nervous since he hadn't driven in a year.  I was nervous for a plethora of other reasons.

And then the car moved.  He had a huge smile on his face but his eyes also spoke to me, and then he stopped and looked at me again and he waved.  And at the moment, I lost it.  It was a very defining moment.  My son was driving into his life, a life of his own.  A life he will navigate independently.  A life of his making.  A life that I will hear about in brief phone calls and random visits home.  It was the beginning and the end of something large. 
I can't shake it off me this morning..... how something as silly as a car could hold so much symbolic meaning.  But it does.  I miss him more this morning then I have ever missed him.  I think I will miss him this way for the rest of my life.  I am also so incredibly proud of him!  And he knows that. 
So I will end this blog with a Irish blessing that I used on a different blog..... It means so much more to me this time around:

Noah,

May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
May the rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again may God hold you in the palm of His hand.





Wednesday, January 2, 2013

A New Kind of Paralysis: The Ben and Jerry's Syndrome

During this time of year it is often the case that I find myself looking back at the past year, and also attempting to venture into the future of the year ahead.  It's not a resolution type of introspection, as in what can I improve or conquer this year that I wasn't able or didn't want to last year.  It's more a question of what are my choices ahead for the upcoming year.  What did I choose last year and what do I want to choose for myself this year?

Some believe that everyone has an equal amount of choice in their life.  I believe that on some level, but not on all levels.  On the one hand, I think that everyone has the choice to be happy, but happiness has varying degrees depending on who you are and what you want out of life.  So, I tend to argue that everyone has varying degrees of choices in their life.  Some people can choose to retire at 30 while others can't.  Some can choose to live in a mansion in Bali and others can't.  Some people have the wherewithal to become brain surgeons and others don't.

As I look at my own life, I feel both blessed and cursed to have an abundance of choice. Blessed, because with so much choice brings a freedom to choose from a plethora of adventures.  Cursed, because I find it a paralyzing abundance.  If I had to choose between only two flavors of ice cream, well, that would be easy.  Give me 100 flavors and watch me stand, wide-eyed, confused and unable to decide.  Damn you, Ben and Jerry's!

So, here I am. I have created a life that presents me with many options to choose from.  Many adventures to explore.  Varied and exciting opportunities are in front of me.  And I am suffering from the Ben and Jerry's syndrome!  Not only can I not choose, but I am frozen.

There is an Hasidic saying that often helps me during these times...." Everyone should carefully observe which way his heart draws him, and then choose that way with all his strength."
In fact, I have lived much of my adult life adhering to it exactly.  So why am I struggling this year?  Perhaps this last year was such a whirlwind of activity and emotion.  I experienced almost every emotion one could... from incredible elation down to the pit of helpless anxiety.  Perhaps this new kind of paralysis is masquerading as simple exhaustion, and my brain cannot make really big decisions right now.  I reached my BIG DECISIONS quota last year that was meant to last for a few years.  Don't really know.  What I do know, as Bertrand Russell stated, "Nothing is so exhausting as indecision, and nothing is so futile."

I will wait.  I will continue to feel blessed for the freedom that comes with abundance of choice.  I will not judge myself for having the Ben and Jerry's syndrome at the moment.  It will pass, and I will, in time, figure out which flavor suits me.  For the moment, I will just take small tastes from them all, until that euphoric feeling of, "YES, this is it" melts all over me.

And lastly, I will dwell on this  Rumi quote..... "Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love."

Make it a great day,

Michelle