The Missing In Action Thing

MONDAY MUSINGS
There was a point in the past ten days when I wasn't sure I'd be here.  This time last month, I was hit with what I thought was an asthma attack, something I haven't dealt with but a couple of times, and the most recent being four or five years ago.

A trip to a local pharmacy clinic netted me some meds and a bill that sucked up my quarterly royalties.  Because I was locked out of healthcare.gov by some kind of glitch, I have no health insurance.  Okay, I'm not whining.  It happened to a lot of people and will be taken care of as time goes by.  Until then, I'll do what I can and hope for the best.

The meds helped...for a while, then I felt worse, then a little better, then worse again.  Three weeks later, I went to a different local clinic because I was still having difficulty breathing that had become worse.  I was given a breathing treatment, meds, prescriptions and more, and spent more money.  A few hours later, I ruined my daughters' evening with a call to them at a concert, telling them I needed to go to the ER.  I.  Could.  Not.  Breathe.

With my oxygen level at a dangerous 82%, I was admitted to the hospital that Saturday night.  At that point in time, I didn't care what they did with me.  I was exhausted from trying to breathe and my hands wouldn't stop shaking.  Yes, a hospital visit is expensive, and without insurance, something I wouldn't do on whim or much of anything else, but I didn't feel I had a choice.  I signed my name and gave my care up to the wonderful people at the hospital.

Tuesday evening I came home, breathing easily and able to walk from one room to the other without tiring or gasping for air.  In fact, on Wednesday, youngest daughter and oldest granddaughter and I went on a treasure hunt, hiking along an historical bridge, looking for a medallion.  I'm not only back to normal, I'm better than I was.  I've stopped smoking.  Again.  (Third time is charmed, right?)

I had a lot of time to think in the hospital.  When there's even the smallest chance that you might not take another breath, you start to see your life in a new way.  Have I done the things I want to do?  Am I ready to pass on to whatever is or isn't out there?  My answer was NO.  I got a whole lotta livin' to do.

Thank you to all my family and super friends, who stopped by to visit, brought me a shake from Sonic, some books, a tiny rose bush, a handmade glitter-pic and kept me smiling.  I am blessed to have you all in my life.  And there's more life coming.  Count on it. :)

Somebody should tell us, right at the start of our lives, that we are dying. Then we might live life to the limit, every minute of every day. Do it! I say. Whatever you want to do, do it now! There are only so many tomorrows. ~ Pope Paul VI

Life's Little Potholes

Yes, that's a pothole.  Anyone who has traveled on a road, whether paved, dirt or sanded, has dealt with them.  They tear up our tires and vehicle and can slam our jaws together tighter than an old lady's corset.  My particular pothole is sitting in the middle of the Road of Life---MY life.  And I've hit it.  Why?  I don't know.  It is what it is.

When this happens, when we hit that pothole, we're stunned.  Then we're shaken.  How much damage has been done?  Other than to my jaw, teeth, and nerves, that is.  I drive a little down the road, only to notice that my steering wheel is insisting I veer to the right.  Flat tire?  I stop, get out and check it, and see that the tire is fine.  Back in the car, I fight the direction the car wants to take me.  The pothole has messed up the alignment.  Just what I don't need right now.

As the French say, "C'est la vie."  Such is life.  We get slammed when we least expect it and least need it.  The first reaction is anger.  I don't like to feel angry.  I don't like that dark, ugly feeling inside.  I want light and pretty.  I do what I can to keep that period of anger as short as possible.  The anger turns to frustration, and the tears begin.  I don't want to cry.  I want to be able to smile, but my emotions have been shaken and bottomed out.  Just how much damage was done to the underneath of my car?  Panic sets in.  Can this be repaired?  If not, what's next?

We've all heard about the stages of grief. There are five of them.  Here's a quick summary.

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

When something traumatic hits us, we go through these 5 stages.  It may take minutes, it may take years.  The length of time of each the stages varies with each person.  They don't always happen in that order.  Some are even skipped.  For me, the Denial stage was, "You've got to be kidding.  Really??"  Yes, there's a tad bit of Anger in that one. :)

Eventually, we come to Acceptance.  The car is out of alignment, there's a dent in the undercarriage, but it's all fixable.  It's only going to take some time.  Oh, and some money, too.  But at least the car will not have to be replaced.  So we do what is necessary to get us back on the road again.

What we don't do is give up.  We don't curl up in a ball and tell the world to go away.  We do what is necessary to make things right for ourselves, then we move on.  Yeah, probably to hit another pothole down the road, but if we've learned to keep a watch on the road and we've learned that we can avoid those potholes--not always, but often--a bad thing eventually becomes a not bad thing.  Maybe even a good one.

Life is full of lessons, just like roads are full of potholes.  They get us when we least expect it.  Go ahead and get angry.  Get it all out.  Just don't let it rule your life.  Make your life better because of it.

All the adversity I've had in my life, all my troubles and obstacles, have strengthened me... You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you. ~ Walt Disney