Monkey Mind

This post inspired by V.J.’s Weekly challenge #47: In-Between

This week, I need your inspiration – where do you go in the in-between? How do you survive it? Or maybe the in-between is ripe with gifts?

~~~

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

We will call you when the all the lab tests come back…
Pathology could take a while…
You’ll have to wait for the results.

       Waiting

Watching
Worrying
Wanting
What If
When Will
What Now
What Then
Why
When
Where

Waiting

The monkey mind churns.
Stealing today’s minutes in-between.
Poof.
Gone.

Helpless jumble of thoughts line up unbidden Bumping into each other Scrambling gibberish Is it five minutes or five hours I can’t stand another secondof….

Turn It Off

Short circuit the loop of lunacy.
Plug in
Three minutes of song.
Shut frantic tired eyes

One-Two.
One-Two-Three-Four.

Volume up.
Way up.

Melodies seep past fear laced neurons
Soothing the gray matter of terror
A foot tapping rhythm takes over…
Three minutes of happy.

ListenHearFeelMoveSingScream
Breathe deep.
Taste hope.

Familiar anthem
From the before.
Temporary respite
Filling the now..
The in-between.

“Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”…
“Lovely Day”…

or a more recent discovery…

“Brighter Than the Sun”…

…whatever reaches deep.

Repeat.

Hold on.

As the clock keeps ticking

Sunup to Sundown

In-between.

Quote of the Day….

Illness is the night-side of life, a more onerous citizenship. Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick.

Susan Sontag

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 

Check one:
Is your health: excellent ___ good ___ fair___ poor___

And so begins the lengthy registration page at the doctor’s office.
Held tight on a clipboard. Which is attached to a pen via a piece of string.
Or choose a pen with a huge plastic flower glued to the top. Ostensibly so you won’t walk off with it. Pens must be expensive. And how sanitary is that?
I really wonder about the fingerprint smeared iPad I am often asked to register on. Taken from a rack. Unsanitized. If I wasn’t sick walking in, chances just increased I’d be sick a few days later.

Anyway…
Back to the health question…why would I be at the doctor’s office, ID and insurance card in hand, ready to pledge my first born for payment if need be…if I was in excellent health?  Or even in good health….

I used to take my health for granted.
Doctor’s visits were annual physicals for the most part.
As a child and young adult, I could leap out of bed, get dressed and be ready for the day in minutes.
Young and vital.
I ate well. Exercised. Took the stairs. Did sit-ups.
No special soaps, creams, drops, pills, patches.

I had no idea my health was time sensitive.

Years passed without a major illness.
Hospitalized briefly for birthing 2 babies. Totally worth it.
But then my 40’s hit and body parts started complaining.
And doing new things that I didn’t like.
Odd symptoms popped up. Baffled the docs.
And then my 50’s…more of the same.
But who has time. I sure didn’t.
A career. House. Marriage. Two kids. Parents.
My activities. Everyone else’s activities.

Health – and wellness – became elusive.
And so started the grieving process.
For what I used to be able to do…
…including the ability to check off “excellent” or “good” on those registration forms.

This post inspired by Ragtag Daily Prompt: Vital

lights

Everybody thinks that the most important thing in life is cash. It’s not. It’s your health.

So said Dan in a recent conversation.

Dan is our electrician. He stopped by last week to look at our new condo. We needed his ideas about installing a ceiling light in the second bedroom. It could have been done during construction, but we’d wanted to keep costs down. Not smart in the long term. But Dan didn’t put it that way…

“You’d rip up that nice new sheetrock and never get it looking this good again.”

Okay, Dan, you’re right. Skip the ceiling light, but our aging eyes need more light at the flip of a switch. And our aging brains didn’t think it all the way through.

“Try wall sconces” he suggested. “Those would be simpler – won’t damage the walls.”  We agreed to visit a local lighting store and check some out.

One other thing…”We also need some dimmer switches here in the dining area. It gets too bright.” The apparent contradiction of the 2 lighting requests didn’t faze him. Dimmer switches are an easy fix.

“So how do you like living here?” Dan remembered our previous suburban home and recognized the significant life change we had made. He was perhaps 10 years behind us in age and lived out in the country. We now live in a multi-unit condo complex close to a busy state highway.

“I like it…it’s much less work….but I miss the quiet.”

We talked about the unending responsibilities of home ownership and snow removal and such. And why, for various reasons, my husband and I made this move. Entered into a mortgage again. Realized we needed to conserve our strength. I needed to avoid another fall off the deck while removing ice dams from the roof. No more climbing stairs down to a basement and up to a second floor. A shorter commute to work.

As time goes on, our physical limitations come into starker view. And we need to pay attention.

He described a recent evening at his home – windows open – all he could hear were the crickets. He just can’t give that up. As he gets older, it may get harder to keep up with his home’s needs, but…as long as he stays healthy it will be okay.

Same here, Dan, same here.