Retreat

 2023 has been an exceptionally tough year.  So much loss, lots of change ... it's been tough to process and work through.  There have been some really great moments as well, but overall, it has been exhausting.  It is during times like these that self-care goes straight out the window- who has the energy?

I went over and around some of the options available to me to help me get back on track and do some healing, but nothing was really appealing.  I had no interest in doing something just to do it when my heart wasn't in it.  So I did nothing ... which wasn't really the smart way to go about healing.

A few weeks ago, I spotted a Facebook post that immediately grabbed my attention.  A young lady posted about the spiritually restorative personal retreat day she took at Rolling Ridge Retreat and Conference Center.  What???  A personal retreat day???  I am familiar with Rolling Ridge, and they are not quite 8 miles away, but I had never looked closely enough at their offerings and missed this one.

Right away I reached out to book a personal retreat day and right away it was set up for me.  I would have a quiet/sitting room to myself from 9 - 5 and had the ability to walk the grounds (38 acres) and throughout the building (except guest rooms and in-use meeting rooms).  I could sign up for lunch or just do my own thing.  Having heard about how talented the Rolling Ridge kitchen team is, I signed up for lunch.  Then I began to count down to my big day.

Finally....my retreat day arrived.  I did not set many goals for the day- I wanted to aim for as close to 2 miles of walking the grounds as I could get, significantly limit time on my phone, re-read a book about Advent and map out a sermon for December.  Not a heavy day but still with some goals.

What I had not planned on was how immediately peaceful I would be.  The building and the grounds are sacred and beautiful and private.  I was assigned to a sitting room with lots of glass and lots of space to spread out and be comfortable.  And the day was mine.

There was only one other group in the building- 9 ladies working on a sewing project of some kind.  They were quiet and respected my space, although one of the ladies came in and asked if she could sit with me and read.  I had no problem with that at all and we sat in quiet companionship and read our books.

Because I had set so few goals, they were easy to attain.  I'd read, work on my sermon, walk on the grounds, read, work on my sermon, walk the grounds, then it was time for lunch.  I ate in the dining room with the sewing ladies, but I had a private table.  Honestly, I would have been fine eating with them, but this little touch of a private table was so thoughtful and helped me to maintain more peace.  And true to all the hype, the kitchen team did a lovely job creating a delicious lunch.

After lunch I read, worked on my sermon, and walked the grounds for the last time.  I left just after 4:15 when I felt ready to get going.

It looks like I had a day of not doing much but reading, walking, and eating.  But this wasn't just a day off, it was a retreat.  The idea of a contemplative retreat is to step away from the noise and busyness of life and take the time in solitude to pray and/or meditate and/or relax the mind, open the soul, and observe sabbath time.  That's what I did.  I am aware it was a luxury to walk away from my life for a whole day and I am grateful.  I am perfectly fine being alone.  I also feel closest to God when I am outside, especially in the woods.

What I had hoped for, and prayed on, was clarity.  The weight of this year and what still lies ahead has left me physically and emotionally exhausted.  Grief is like a minefield and constantly dodging the mines takes a toll.  Spending time at Rolling Ridge gave me much of what I needed, because they have created a safe and special place where there is nothing to do but care for the self.

I felt so much more focused when it was time for me to head home.  I re-read a book to set my mind on the right path for Advent.  I drafted a sermon for Christmas Eve morning worship.  I wrote a list of several things I've been pushing around and not doing, thereby making a commitment to them (because they are in writing).  I spent time in prayer and in prayerful meditation surrounded by nothing but the sounds of dry leaves blowing and birds calling to each other.  I logged 2 miles walking on the grounds and through the labyrinths.  My mind and body and soul all received nourishment I could not provide otherwise.

If you have never taken any retreat time, I would strongly recommend it.  It isn't easy to plan to be alone for that long without any structure.  Maybe a guided retreat would help if you aren't good keeping yourself focused for long when you are alone.

More than anything, I have realized that none of us are so essential that it's ok to never care for ourselves.  Sure, it's easy for me to say and sure I don't have the responsibilities that others have, but I have enough.  And they weighed me down to a point where I was not sure how to get out from beneath them.  This retreat was the way to begin to do that.  I have clarity, am checking things slowly from my list, and I am worth the time and the effort.  I am worth the time and effort.

I am so very thankful to everyone at Rolling Ridge for creating this amazing space.  I most enjoyed the Point of Pines Outdoor Chapel (where I just learned my friend Bonnie was married!).  It was my favorite spot.

If you don't think you can take time for you - I say to you - you'd better, because you are the only person who can.

xo

I Did Not Want a Dog

I am a cat lady.  I love everything about them and cannot find fault with any aspect of their design or function.  Sure, I had dogs growing up and I loved them, but as an adult I much prefer cats.

My husband is a dog lover.  He mentioned over the years how nice it would be if we had a dog, but our lives would never support dog ownership.  We both worked very long days not close to home, and we knew it would be grossly unfair to have an animal in our family who needed more time and attention than we could provide.  I also wasn't excited about dog claws on the hardwood floors or having to get out of bed super early to walk, and don't get me started on picking up poop.  Oy.

Then came pandemic.  Suddenly, I wasn't working away from home anymore.  This seemed like the perfect time to him, but I was not ready.  I lost my beloved heart cat, Camille, in January 2020 and in February brought home Scout. Scout had a number of medical and anxiety issues we had to work through and bringing a dog into the mix wasn't going to help her.  So...no dog.

In March 2022, there appeared to be some light at the very far end of the pandemic tunnel.  My office was going to reopen at some point (spring, then summer, then September) and I would very likely not be going back more than one or two days per week.  So we looked for a dog.

Criteria.  Not a puppy, no more than 50 pounds, cat respectful, and cat savvy

Result.  Peggy

Peggy is a 6-year-old "guard" (formerly bully)/cattle dog mix who weighs 50 pounds and is cat savvy and fairly respectful.  She's a cattle dog so herding is what she does with us and with the cats.  She likes all her "sheep" to be safe and accounted for.  

She's got a DNA profile that's crazy....21 breed mixes: 38% guard, 25% Asian and Oceanian, 22% Herder, 7% Sporting, 4% Companion, 3% Terrier, and 1% Hound.

I knew from adopting rescued cats that life can be horrible for these animals.  They are throwaways, strays, and many have no idea what love it.  Helping a cat is one thing but helping a 50-pound dog who thinks she's a cat and suffers from reactivity and anxiety is something very different.

What I've Learned.  

Reactive is not aggressive.  She is the spokesmodel for reactivity to dogs, people, the FedEx and UPS trucks, and doorbells on TV.  She reacts by barking really loudly and by sometimes lunging.  It's because she's afraid.  She isn't sure if who/what she's facing is going to hurt her or hurt her sheep, and she's letting the potential threat know she's there and watching.  If the person in front of her hands her some treats, she'll sit like a good girl, eat them, then bark more.  An aggressive dog isn't sitting and eating out of a stranger's hand.  Always ask an owner before you advance or reach for any dog.

Dogs love new days & have no concept of time.  Every single morning this girl greets me with her butt wiggling and kisses and excitement for our new day.  I try to take this lesson from her.  No matter what happened yesterday, today is new and we should wiggle our butts and get to enjoying it.  When we aren't together, she isn't aware sometimes of how long or short a time we have been separated.  She's usually super excited to see each of us when she thinks she has not seen us in a long time.  A long time to her may be 20 minutes, but I melt at how happy she is when we are reunited.

She makes me brave.  I'm one of those people who loves being home.  Pandemic didn't hurt me there.  I'm fairly introverted and working alone all day is like a dream.  But I also became one of those people who didn't go out much unless I had to because I would get anxious out walking alone in the middle of the day.  Not anymore!  Peg makes me feel so brave.  We start most days with a 2-mile walk.  Because she's reactive, I need to get her out while the world is still asleep.  We also walk in cemeteries when we can and when we are alone.  We are not afraid!

The Dog Community is huge.  We have met more people and learned more about people we know who have dogs because of Peg.  Customers my husband has known for years are different people when she goes to work with him.  Suddenly they're on the floor playing with her and bringing her gifts.  It is an amazing network.

She isn't too old to learn.  She's 6 we think and had what might have been zero training at any time before her foster mom, Donna, trained her.  She's in the middle of her second training class now, and she's learning so many new things!  These new skills take time, and we have to practice with her consistently, but she's doing great and she's learning.

Dogs are not cats.  My vet has told me this 500 times.  Every time we discussed something, and I would describe what I do or how I'm thinking, she smiles and reminds me that dogs are different from cats and it's OK to feed them more and give them treats.  And the supplies...my cats don't need much but this dog...oy.  Every time I turn around, I'm ordering her something (thanks Chewy!) and I can't stop myself.  

My cat stalks her.  Cats are not pack animals, and my Winnie is very fine pretending to be an only child.  She ignores Scout and Peg and just wants to hang with me.  Scout, on the other hand, wants nothing more than to be Peggy's BFF.  Every night they snuggle after Scout (noisily) grooms Peg's face.  It's really sweet.  Scout is so happy to be with her.

What Makes Me Sad.

She's pretty isolated.  I walk her in the dark in the morning, so we see as few people and dogs as possible.  I walk her in the cemetery, so we see no one.  We are her only friends aside from two dogs who live next door.  In addition to being reactive, I do not think she likes other dogs.  She's ok with our neighbor dogs, Noli and Mazie, but after a few minutes of being friends, she's done and ready to go.  She doesn't want to hang once she knows she's safe.

She can't go places like other dogs.  Until she's better about reacting, she can't be near other dogs casually.  We can't go to Pet Smart because she'll lose her mind, so I do all her shopping.  I can't bring her to my friend Sarah to be groomed, because if there are other dogs in the salon she'll lose her mind.  I currently have a mobile groomer come to her we I can help keep her anxiety down.  I know at some point we will get her to a better place, and I don't care if she never goes to the store, but I want her to be groomed by Sarah (at All that Jazz), who is a kind and gentle and beautiful soul and would make Peg feel so loved and safe.  

She has a sad past.  She has no recorded history until the day the San Antonio dog officer grabbed her off the street (April 17, 2021).  No one was looking for her and she was not chipped.  They made that her birthday and shipped her to New Hampshire.  Between June and November 2021 no one wanted her.  We know she had puppies at some point.  We know someone tied her up and left her, because if we leave her leashed and have to walk away, she begins to cry and whine.  We know someone scared her so that she's afraid of every stranger.  We know a man wasn't kind to her, because she's most afraid of men.  We know that the person who finally adopted her in November 2021 treated her OK. but when he overdosed in February 2022, she was again homeless.  On the bright side....we know her foster mom Donna taught her what love meant and how to be a good girl.

Looking forward with hope.

She's made me love dogs.  I'm now a dog mom, and while I am also a cat lady, my heart can manage it all.  I now must speak with every dog I see (after asking if it's ok first) and I must tell them how perfect they are.

She brings out the good in all of us.  She has brought out the dog-dad side to my husband I hadn't seen before.  He's so in love with her and she with him.  They are adorable together.  She reminds me to face every day with a butt wiggle and a new attitude.  I have solved more problems and written sermons in my mind and had all kinds of fresh ideas on our walks.  They do not just help me physically but spiritually and mentally.  She has also made Scout braver.  Scout was doing OK with us, but she's a different cat because of Peggy.

They know their name.  Peggy was her shelter name, but she knew it, so we kept it.  It was my grandmother's nickname, which I took as a sign.  She will also answer to Pegasaurus, Pegasus, Pegs, Pretty Girl, and Pegaroni.

It's never too late.  One year ago, if you told me I'd have this 50-pound dog laying at my feet, I'd have told you to shut up because that wasn't going to happen.  Sometimes I forget we have her then suddenly there's a Pitbull in my kitchen.  We were not sure a 6-year-old could learn new things at training, but she can and is!

I say to you - if you want a companion, head to the nearest shelter with an open mind and an open heart and you will meet your new best friend.

xoxo

  

  

Answering the Call - Cleared for Takeoff

 Please note that this is a faith-based post.  Nothing below is intended to disparage any faith or any church - these are only my experiences.

In January 2017 I began to worship in the United Methodist church, joined the church in the spring of that year and my life has never been the same.

I was raised in the Catholic church and quit completely in 1986 for a variety of reasons.  I joined the Protestant faith (UCC) in spring of 2002 and began a new journey toward building stronger relationship with God.  I had never before had the opportunity to just sit and talk about the Bible and hear interpretations from anyone other than an ordained person.  I had not experienced listening to a sermon that specifically and directly helped me to see how ancient Scripture applied to my life at that moment.  The Open Communion Table was critically important to me.  It was a wonderful time of growth and I made friends I still love very much.  As life goes, that church stopped being the right place for me and I moved on and found a new faith.

As I learned about the Methodist faith, I found so many things to love.  I love the order of the Book of Discipline.  I find it comforting that we are a connectional church - which means that every local church is linked to a network of churches and organizations that work together - we can do more together than we can alone.  I most especially love the Open Hearts, Open Doors position my church, Aldersgate United Methodist Church, embraces.  Our Communion Table is open to everyone.  I have a faith family that is incredibly loving and supportive.  What would be most important is how the role of the laity, from the very earliest Methodist movement, would be to me.

On July 31, 2018, while driving home from my Aunt Joyce's funeral, I received my call to ministry.  I recall being extremely peaceful that day.  Her funeral, while incredibly sad, allowed me the gift of spending the day with so many people I loved.  Maybe it was them or maybe it was, for the first time I ever recall, we sang during a Catholic funeral...I'm not sure.  But I know my heart was open and the message came.  It wasn't all booming voices or craziness like on TV - it was more of a strong thought that kept going through my mind - unlike other thoughts.  I wasn't sure what to make of it and shared the story with my Pastor, who knew just what was happening. 

I took the exploration/discernment steps and determined that my calling would lead me down the path of Certified Lay Minister (CLM).  This is not an ordained position and has no sacramental authority.  The CLM is really, as my Pastor puts it, a liturgical theologian.  What we can do is conduct public worship, care for the congregation, assist in program leadership, develop new and existing faith communities, preach the Word, lead small groups, and establish. "...CLMs may provide leadership in many other contexts and have responsibility for other expressions of mission and ministry both within the congregation and in the community, district, or annual conference.  While CLMs can provide the essential guidance and pastoral leadership and services necessary for effective mission and ministry in churches, they are not intended to replace clergy, but rather to work beside them and with them as part of a team ministry." New England Conference: Lay Servant Ministry/Certified Lay Ministry (neumc.org)

Between June of 2019 and June of 2021, I took all of the courses I needed to take (and then some).  I filled in forms, had financial and criminal backgrounds conducted, completed a psychological evaluation and interview, repeatedly reflected on my path and prayed for guidance, and finally this week, I appeared before our district Committee on Ordained Ministry.  I was really nervous, but really excited.  This was the go/no go meeting and ... it's a GO!  It's official.  After nearly 3 years and endless growth, I'm so excited to continue down this path in a new way.

What's next?  I'm not sure.  I will continue to serve Aldersgate as I have.  I have an idea for a local prayer ministry I will be sharing with my Pastor.  I will also serve where/if I am needed in our District.  I am so excited to see what God has in mind for me next!

This wasn't a trip I took easily or alone.  Having an incredible support system made all the difference.  My husband Brad has been my biggest and best cheerleader along with my Pastor, Reverend Rachel Fisher.  Danielle and Jan were my official Ministry Team.  Betty is my soul sister and has been wildly supportive.  Pastor Chris, who was next to me as a fellow Mass$#%^ at our discernment weekend.  Darla, a teacher for several of the on-line courses I took who has become an inspiration and a friend.  There are many other people who helped me along this crazy ride, and I have been blessed by each of them.  In the words of the immortal Grateful Dead...what a long, strange trip it's been.  And it has only just begun.

If you think you can't shift gears mid-trip I say to you...open your heart, because it's never too late to hear a new message that will change your life.

xoxo

Tie it off

When I was in 7th grade home economics I struggled with the hand stitching.  I used to bring my "homework" to my Mimi (my grandmother), who had been a seamstress, and ask her for help.  She'd show me the stiches and tell me that while I could do them fine, if I didn't learn some patience, I would never be good at sewing.

Sewing?  Who wanted to sew?  I was 12 and didn't care about sewing.  It's an "if I only knew then what I know now" moment here.  What I did not know then was that Mimi, who could knit, crochet, sew, and cook anything, had to drop out of high school and get a job to help support her family when her dad died.  She could sew, so she did that.  She sewed sugar/flour sacks.  She sewed to help put food on the table.  (I blogged about her in 2014 here).  I could sew for fun, learn from the master, and spend extra time with my grandmother -- none of which I appreciated then.  She passed away in January 2005 and I miss her still so much.

Fast forward to the pandemic we've all lived with for nearly a year.  My Pastor, Rachel, shared that she picked up an old hobby her mom taught her - cross stitch.  She got going again and is teaching her daughters.  Her work is so pretty and so cool and I love that her girls are sharing that with her.

Seeing one of her finished projects inspired me to find a hobby for me.  So I ordered a couple of beginner embroidery kits and hit the hoops (so to speak).  I heard Mimi in my head reminding me to be patient or it wouldn't work.  I don't have her to help me with the stiches, but I have YouTube.  I have completed two projects (below) and am about to begin another.  My stitching is OK - not perfect - but I'm trying really hard to be patient while I do it and to channel my grandmother and imagine us working those pesky French knots together.

I also think about how I missed the chance to learn this from her 45 years ago and I wonder if any of my three nieces would want to learn - it would be a super cool way to connect each of them to her (and connect us).  I will have to force it on mention it to them soon.

If you think you're too old or it is too late to learn something new - I say to you - BS.  Learn it.  Extra points if you can learn it from someone who lives it rather than from YouTube.

xoxo

   

Your wings were ready ... my heart was not

It's not always easy to say good-bye, and today my husband and I helped my best girl, Camille, cross the rainbow bridge.  My heart is broken at losing her, but also filled with joy for the blessing of having known her and been loved by her for 13.5 years.

💖
Camille Bellofatto Keimach
July 10, 2004 - January 16, 2020
North Reading, Massachusetts

Camille, the best girl and most beautiful house panther, crossed the rainbow bridge today.  She fought the good fight against kidney disease, but ultimately she decided enough was enough.

She leaves behind her mom and best friend, De, her dad Brad, sisters Jill and Kayla, and her fur sister Winnie.  She is also survived by her grands, Pat and Nick, both of whom she loved to kiss, and her governess, Sarah, whom she loved like another mom.

Camille's early years are a mystery, but she rescued De in June 2006.  She was a guest of the Melrose (MA) Humane Society and her foster mom, Claire, knew these two were meant for each other.  From the day they formed a new family, Camille was worshipped, as she should have been.

Camille loved to take the night shift on security - moving through the house and keeping watch.  Sometimes her movements involved chasing noisy toys or charging up and down the basement stairs so she could slam through the cat door.  She always made it a point to report what she observed to her mom, often around 2 a.m., and figured they might as well have a snack while they were up.

She loved to eat, and mealtime was her favorite.  She was affectionately known as Big Ben, due to her ability to begin shouting for dinner at the exact same time every night.  Next to eating, Camille loved to nap in a number of favorite spots.  She had special blankets all around the house so that she would always be comfy to her specifications.

She was very generous with kisses and with chatter.  She most especially loved telling her mom stories.  She could keep a secret and love to gift you her toys.  You never knew if you'd find a gift in your bed, or your shoes, or your gym bag.  Her family realizes that keeping her an indoor cat spared them "gifts" from the outdoors.

De most especially wishes to thank the veterinarians, Dr. Kastner and Dr. Hascall as well as everyone at Park Street Veterinary Clinic in North Reading for taking such excellent care of Camille (and of her).  They made Camille's last moments peaceful, and warm, and respectful.  They are all angels and De and Brad are so grateful.

Her passing leaves a hole in her family, but they were blessed to have known her and to have been chosen by her to love.  In her memory, her family asks for friends to make a donation to the shelter or rescue of their choice to give other cats the chance to live a good life, and also asks that friends remember to adopt and not shop - shelters are filled with cats waiting for moms and dads.

Rest in peace sweet girl 💖💖💖

Limping into the new year

It is that time of year when many are gearing up to make resolutions, and lists, and plan to become different or better versions of themselves.  It's what we do.  I've done it some years, other years I have created the list on my new year, my birthday, and other years I've just limped along into the new year knowing that I was not well-positioned to make major changes.  This is one of those years … I've got no extra energy.

Those who know me, know how much I love cats and how much I worship my two, Camille and Winnie.  Camille, my little old lady at 15.5, has been fighting the good fight against kidney disease for a while, and recently went into kidney failure.  Her downhill seemed really fast to me.  I work with her vets to ensure she's comfortable and do what I can for her, which includes a couple of meds, special food, and twice weekly SQ fluid injections (which is not as easy as it looks). 

Camille rescued me back in June of 2006 and has rescued me every day since.  It is breaking my heart bit by bit to watch her go from the fighting machine she was to this frail little panther.  I am ready to ensure she does not suffer and will know when that time is here, but that time is not now.

Because I've had so much energy invested in her, I haven't had as much to spread around.  There are no holiday decorations up this year (save for the white lights around the mantle, but I leave those up all year).  I have not sent cards.  I purchased every gift on line and didn't enter a store if I didn't have to.  For some reason known only to her, Camille can't seem to sleep much.  So I'm up with her pretty much every two hours every night.  Most often she just wants to snuggle, which I do.  Sometimes she wants a snack.  Whatever she needs, I'm awake with her, but I am also absurdly exhausted.

I also hurt my IT band in November, which makes moving in certain ways painful or impossible and it has kept me from the gym.  :(

As I'm reading all the helpful new year-new you lists, I see some nice ideas but am not really recording them.  Until I looked closely at some yesterday and realized they aren't about "new" but about "you" and self care (here).  Many thanks to my friend Shirley for posting it.

Maybe resolutions really do need to be about self care and not a complete makeover.  I'm not going to wake up a different person on Wednesday, but I can be sure to get some time in each day for me - it's not selfish - it is necessary.  Caring for the caregiver should be as important as taking care of everyone else.

While I can't do much at the gym, I can walk on the treadmill, so that works.  While I can't force or help Camille to sleep, I can make sure to fit in short naps if possible, or at least set aside a little quiet time to recharge.  While I can't slow down her disease, I can make sure I let her know every chance I get how loved she is, which will help me come to terms with this.

If you think you have to go big or go home, or that you aren't important enough - I say to you - step back and resolve to give yourself what you need.  It's enough.  You are enough.  And you are worth the effort. 

Happy New Year friends
xoxo

I thought I was going right home...

Two weeks ago, I woke up with an ear infection.  The post is about the ear infection, but largely about how fast things change and how much that shook me.

I took myself to urgent care first thing Saturday morning, learned I had a pretty standard infection, received a prescription for some heavy duty ear drops, was told to take Tylenol for the pain, and went about my business.  The provider advised that I would not feel better until late Sunday or early Monday, but that it seemed pretty run of the mill.  It would appear that I am anything but run of the mill, and if something whacky can go wrong, it will.

Saturday night was not good.  I was not compliant regarding the medication, and took Excedrin instead of Tylenol.  My jaw became so sore that it hurt to chew - hello scrambled eggs for dinner.  I slept little and figured that Sunday would bring improvement.  On Sunday, Brad went up to Maine to see our girls for the day, but I felt too crappy to go.  I went to church then came home.  As the day wore on, I felt myself deteriorating.  The pain became so much worse, that I was taking 2 Excedrin every 3 hours.  I couldn't chew anything and my ear was completely blocked.  I hesitated to bring myself back to urgent care, in part because the idea of the drive was beyond what I could manage, but also because Brad was not home and I did not want him making the 2 hour drive home worried about me.  When he arrived home, we went right to urgent care.  I figured they'd give me some antibiotics and I'd go home.

Because at this point I was not able to completely close my jaw due to swelling around my ear, the provider was planning to send me to the emergency room of the closest hospital (Winchester Hospital, in Winchester MA).  As she and I were speaking, a wave of dark dizziness washed over me - I told her it was happening then out I went.  I opened my eyes to see a stranger standing over me telling me that I had just had a seizure and asked if I had a history of seizures.

What?  Of course I do not have a history of seizures.  WHAT?  A seizure?  What the BLEEP just happened?  I was immediately alert and able to answer all questions.  I had not lost control of my motor skills or any parts/functions in my body.  The provider advised that she had called 911 as per their protocol and that I would be going to Winchester in first class style.  I told her to go get my husband before any fire engines and the ambulance pulled in.  Poor Brad.  We had literally been texting 5 minutes before and now two people are running to him and bringing him to me.

I went to Winchester for a CT scan to ensure the swelling around my ear had not morphed into something bad.  They were going to admit me, so I sent Brad home.  Our plan was that he would go to work for a while Monday, then come get me when I was discharged.  Not long after he left, the ER doctor came in and advised that he and the ENT doctor determined that my ear wasn't as much of a concern as the seizure was.  They wanted me to go another hospital for an MRI.  I told him that, despite having zero medical training, the passing out was due to too much Excedrin, no sleep and very little to eat.  He advised that, due to his medical training, that sounded good, but it would not have caused that reaction.  He said that the seizure was low on the scale, but they wanted to ensure they covered all bases.  He wouldn't send me if I refused to go, but he thought it seemed like the right thing to do, so I went.

I was on the midnight express to Lahey Hospital (Burlington MA) and there I remained until 1 p.m. on Monday.  I had an MRI (thank you Diazepam!!) and it was clear.  They fed me, medicated me, and helped me feel better.  I went home, and today, two weeks later, am nearly better.  It was a pretty good infection and it's in no hurry to go, but it is going and I am getting better.

Throughout the entire ordeal, I wasn't worried or afraid.  What I was most focused on was how fast it all happened.  One second I'm speaking and looking forward to going home and the next I'm in an ambulance hooked up to an EKG and going in the opposite direction from home.

When I got home Monday, everything was exactly as I'd left it.  The sofa blanket I pushed aside when Brad got home was right there - I always put the blankets away at night when I go to bed, but this was right on the sofa where I had been sitting.  My water glass was on the end table and not in the sink, where I'd have left it.  I thought I was coming right back.  And I left everything as if I was.  How many people who went to an ER that night didn't come home?  How often do we imagine "later" and delude ourselves into thinking there automatically will be a "later".  Just because there always has been doesn't guarantee anything.  Is my life in order enough so that if I have no more "laters" everything makes sense?  The answer is no and Brad and I added that to our immediate list of things to do.

I also spent lots of time thinking of what I take for granted.  Do I appreciate the people around me enough?  I like to think I do.  I cull the weeds and step away from people who are not bringing positive energy into my days and who do nothing to try to be positive.  I remove people from my life who are hurtful and who aren't deserving of my energy.  I do not abide by the "but you HAVE to speak to this person or you HAVE to speak to that person".  No - I don't.  I keep my tribe limited to those people I care for and who care back.  Two way street or nothing.  Appreciating myself is on the list - if I don't care about me and for me, no one else will.  It's my job and the responsibility belongs to no one else.

The experience shook me up and I can't stop thinking about how fast everything can change.  I'll be working on ensuring things are ready for when there is no more "later" for me.  I challenge you to do the same.  It's not easy or pleasant to think about, but that's life.  If you feel like you can't, I say to you - if not you, then who?  Run your life - own your life.  Cherish the "nows" and look forward to whatever "laters" you get.  Fill your life with people who matter to you.  If there's someone you miss, reach out to them and let them know.  If there is something you want to do - do it.  Live the best life you can and enjoy every second of it.

xo