Tumbling

2007, so far, has been pretty rough for me. I started a medical leave in November that ended February 1st. In January, I started the year off with surgery to implant the VNS therapy device. On St. Patrick's Day, I broke my left elbow snowboarding. I spent Easter weekend in the hospital hooked up to an IV that pumped heavy duty antibiotics into my body to treat a nasty staph infection. I know somewhere in there is a lesson or two, but I can't see them.

I'm frustrated. I'm tired. I'm a little cranky. I feel useless. I work, I come home, I sleep. I wake up and do it all over again. My beautiful husband and I seem to be on different planets. My life has become a blurred, exhausted mess. I have not said "I feel good" since before I broke my arm. Which, by the way, irritates the beejeezus out of me. The type of fracture I have -- of the radial head -- does not require casting. The orthoped wants me to use my arm as much as possible but I have found that it's pretty useless for doing anything really important. I can't hang my purse from it or extend it all the way. Just recently I have been able to touch my lips with my fingers without tearing up from the pain.

I think I will ask my VNS doc to dial my device back two notches (from 1.5 mAmps to 1.0 mAmps) -- which is where I was before I broke my arm. I distinctly remember snowboarding down the hill of our local haunt and saying to myself "I feel GOOD!". Right now, I don't feel good. I don't know how much of it is because of the massive, raging staph infection I've been fighting for the past two-and-a-half weeks or if it has to do with VNS?

The picture on the left is of the island located in the center of the little town I grew up in. Just beyond the bridge, on the right, is the last house my grandparents lived in. Of course you can't see it, but I know it's there. I have very fond memories of that house and everything it stood for. Still stands for. The smells of my Grandmother's southern cooking and Timeless perfume. The smell of my Granddaddy's pipe, the sounds of Lawrence Welk in the background. Granddaddy died in July, 1985 -- 52 years and a few days after he pledged to love Grandmother "'til death do us part". She continuted to live in that house until around 2000 when she moved to an assisted living facility. I spent a lot of time in that house with her looking out over the river in that picture.

I turn 40 next month and I've been feeling a little nostalgic? Sentimental? I can't quite put my finger on what is going on in my head. In all honesty, I'm not afraid of the big four-oh, there is just some. thing. Kind of gnawing at me. Furrowing my brow.

I feel the need to reach out to people in my past. To tell them how much their time in my life meant to me and how much I appreciate all they did for me. For instance, one of my dad's old girlfriends. I know, that sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, but she was an important part of my life at one time. So last week I Google'd the name of one of her son's -- a VERY unique name -- and sent him an email. He quickly responded and gave me her phone number. I haven't called her yet because I don't want to intrude on her life. I just want to say "thank you" to her.

Thank you for being my friend.