It’s a head cold that won’t release. Thurs, last week, I wake with a scratchy throat, a cough, and a certainty that this, this thing is sliding, and sliding fast. And it does. And it did. And it’s still here.
I take inventory.
Air travel. Hands laid down on arm rests, where hundreds of others set down exactly in the same spot. American’s Clean-up crew, not enough of them, mop up major spills. Most arm rests sit untouched by the cleaning rags, or maybe they are touched, with the same rag passing from one arm rest to the other to the other. Petri dishes, waiting.
Airline club. I brush away crumbs of food on the seat and the arm rest. Coffee cups, soiled napkins, all sit stacked on the side table. One cup, 3/4s full, has a lipstick tattoo, and a fingerprint, a thin film from hand lotion leaving traces of her DNA. I shift in my seat, the freshly painted Quiet room can’t hide its fatigue from the thousands that pass through the day. It groans, Give me your Tired, Your Hungry, Your Rich, all sequestered in this Oasis a few minutes before boarding. Passing our crumbs, paying it forward.
Long term rehab facility. Walking down the hall. Avoiding a stare in each room. Ventilators pumping oxygen. 24×7. Pumping. Pumping. Why is she here? Why is he here? Does she ever get out of bed? How does she not get bed sores? I turn the corner to my Brother’s room. A roll of the dice and he’s here. Here. Inside. I’m Outside. His roommate. A Veteran. (?) Amputee. It’s Veteran’s Day on Monday. Our eyes connect. Good morning I offer. He never responds. He has no bowel control. The Help pulls the thin curtain. It’s OK Sir. No problem. Just turn a little to the left. The smell of disinfectant fills the room, and burns its tracks. On the flight home, someone has passed gas, the smell detonates in the cabin, the young lady in the seat next to me buries her head in her sweater and whispers: “Disgusting.” I’m brought back to Rehab. Just turn a little to the left Sir.
It starts in the head, the slow drip of fatigue slides like lava and builds, from sinuses down to the toes. DayQuil every 4 hours. NyQuil before bed. Bed. Sleep. Work. Bed. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.
This morning. I flip open the smartphone. 26° F, feels like 22°. And it arrives. Why now, I can’t explain. Anne Lamott’s ‘mystery of Grace.’ Mucous secretions streaming. This air I breathe. This thick comforter, and the warmth that it offers. This miracle of being here, in this moment, in all of its fog. I’m Grateful. For all of it.
And, I’m not moving, not from here. Not from this spot. Not today. Not until noon.
Photo: (via Endless Summer)
Live & Learn 
Sometimes just the fact of being is both miraculous and enervating. That inexplicable dichotomy of being aware and alive. Rest, my friend – this will all be here after noon.
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Thank you Mimi.
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and we often find grace at the least likely times and in the least likely of places.
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Effort is the snail inching along, while grace is the current that lifts it from the suction of its path. Effort is keeping the break in our heart open, while grace is the light of everything not broken washing the break clean.
Half of the soul’s work is to be. The other half is to be of use. It’s in our nature to try with all our heart, at everything and anything, until we chance to inhabit grace and come alive. And being so alive, we become a conduit for life and a resource for others…The soul’s work is ever-present, if we can put down everything that gets in the way.
~Mark Nepo, The One Life We’re Given: Finding the Wisdom That Waits in Your Heart (Simon and Schuster, Jul 19, 2016)
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beautiful
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Hi Beth.( I did receive this message. And don’t see that you are in Spam)
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that was old and the universe took care of it )
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Oh that is fabulous, David
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It is.
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I’m sorry about and for you and your brother. Sadness and worry open doors for germs in addition to your evaluation of the germ traps for travelers. Sleep is a cure and I hope this weekend you can have a lot of it and hot chicken soup.
>
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Thank you. I’m looking forward to exactly that.
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Awww, DK, I am sorry you have caught the bug. It seems to be making the rounds. So very sorry about your brother. It is so damn difficult to see someone we love in distress and not be able to alter the situation. I hope that you can allow yourself a bit of leeway over this long weekend…stay in bed late, go to bed early, be kind to yourself.
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Thank you Lori. Will do.
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I hope the rehab is a good sign for your brother tather than otherwise, and I hope you’re feeling better starting 5 minutes ago. Again I marvel that the Son of Man appropriated a human body’s limitations and indignities and diminishings including cessation itself, when He didn’t have to do so — just so that we’d know that He knows. Prayers from here, too.<3
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Thank you Carol.
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I just woke up, made tea for mama and baba, coffee for me, pulled a chair by dad’s side of the bed and stuck my legs under the covers under his legs. And, “And, I’m not moving, not from here. Not from this spot. Not today. Not until noon.”
May Grace always find you. And Lorne. Tell him there exists another Lorne in Montréal 🙂
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Thank you Sawsan. Will do.
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The tears that flow from my eyes as I read your post are soft, gentle, grace-filled. I feel your sorrow, your sense of gratitude and awe and your capacity to honour it all. To stand in the broken and the complete and feel the world flow through you is such a beautiful, grace-filled gift. Thank you for sharing your gift with such grace.
May you rest and may the cold fade away without finding a good place to rest in your body!
Many blessings to you and your brother.
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Thank you Louise.
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I love how you do this. Your writing is always at its best when you dig deep.
Sending healthy good vibes to both you and your brother. With an extra hug for you, my friend.
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Thank you Dale.
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Take time out, cosy up and nourish your precious being. It needs it more than ever. 💕
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Yes. Right there. Exactly. Thank you Val.
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Sending you and your brother good wishes, and warm thoughts. Go with Grace
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Thank you Michael.
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“Detonates” haha. So accurate. As for catching a cold, I have only one thing to say – NeilMed sinus rinse (use distilled water).
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Thanks! Will check it out.
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I use it whenever I feel a scratchy throat coming on and it has worked like a charm. No colds for 16 years except once when I was in Montana and didn’t have any NeilMed with me. Germs can’t live in a salty environment. Costco or any pharmacy.
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16 years. Wow! In it.
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Truth! But use distilled water.
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”The only veil that stands between perception of what is, underneath the desolate surface; is your courage.
Dare to breach the surface and sink.”
Sometimes when everything is too much, we need to just sink into what is. May you rise again soon my friend. 🌈
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Thank you Karen.
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I can feel the blanket of tiredness, worry and sadness enveloping you in these words; flying back and forth in a stewpot of germs, it was only a matter of time.
Fluids – rest – Neti Pot – meds if needed – repeat.
PS ** Neti pot (distilled water only) – recommend the battery operated Navage. Amazingly helpful.
sending healing prayers to both you and your brother,
MJ
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Thank you MJ. Need to try that Neti Pot.
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best wishes to you and your brother. I’m sure your visits are a key part of the healing process. By the way, you make airline travel sound so glamorous. And why get out of bed at noon?
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Thank you Jim. Absolutely no reason to get out of bed before noon on Saturday’s. None!
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words to love by…
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oops; words to live by!
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😛😍
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Chilling paradoxes in this one. Perspective is important, somehow. Useful if not soul-salving. Glad you finally rested in gratitude. 🤙🌈💜
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Yes. For a moment it was bliss. Thank you.
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