Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Wilderness

Ack.
Probably should delete the last post, but you know, it is what it is. The weather here has been awful, cold and snowing, virtual white out at times, treacherous roads. We live on a mountain top that is locally renown for its crappy weather. Scandia residents are considered hardier than most folks. I think it's so much nonsense, myself, but whatever. Folklore has to have its beginnings somewhere, I suppose. It pleases people to think that I'm tucked away in Scandia eating venison sloppy joes, feeding the woodboiler that heats our house. Neither sleet nor snow, nor lots of snow keeps me from my daily shot at the cancer center. Yeah. We're a rare breed up here.
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The extreme weather has kept people from visiting. The isolation is wearing at me. Left to my own devices, I have read myself into a stupor. I have spent a lot of time sitting quietly staring out into the snow, pondering, wondering what all this means. Events of the last 3 1/2 months are finally starting to sink in. I've wandered into a place even more remote than the mountain that I live on. I look at my husband and he seems too far away to reach, caught up as he is in a day to day world that I am no longer a part of, at least for the moment.
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After a week of wandering in this wilderness, today I realized that I was in danger of getting myself lost. Tim, steady as ever, was waiting. "I understand," he said. And something within me began to unthaw. I saw a friend in the grocery store. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked. "Call me," I said. "I miss shooting the bull like we used to." "I can do that," she said, and she grinned the sort of grin that you give someone who doesn't have cancer. I laughed. I got a call from a friend who is just finishing her final week of radiation. I'm going to give her an Indian name: 'Been-there-done-that'. I could never have conceived of laughing square in the face of cancer and chemo before these days.
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With each interaction, I realize the value of family, of love, of friends. I grope blindly in this wilderness, and I find comfort and warmth of others guiding me back where I belong.

4 comments:

jeanie said...

I am glad you are finding visions of surety in your blizzard there, Deb.

I wonder sometimes how it was for our fore-mothers, the ones who were holed up in isolation just dealing.

I think they drank a lot, cooked a lot, wrote long letters, knitted and patchworked.

Hugs to you. I hope you find many more talismen (and taliswomen) in your journey to the new Spring.

(and hey - remember, some people strap planks of wood to their feet and pay for the privelege of all that snow!!)

Portia said...

Makes you want to run away from home to a sunny place. It's -2 degrees here with lake effect snow from Lake Michigan.

What would your Indian name be?

steviewren said...

Debby, I think life happens to us and we make little decisions every moment as to how we will respond.

I haven't had as much or the same kind of adversity as you, but I've had things thrown at me that I never wanted to deal with. Sometimes I'm down and that is okay. Sitting down is necessary sometimes. We all need rest. But there comes a moment when it is time to stand up again. You decided to stand up again today.

Sending a hug your way!

rhubarbwhine said...

I can send you some virtual sunshine, but it's not quite the same, is it. Science has proven that warmer climes encourage more endomorphins. Some of those happy hormones could do well as a gift if I could find a way of sending you some feel goods.
x