Broken
Yesterday I found my pot of shamrocks smashed to bits, dirt scattered across the floor, withered stems mixed in with soil, white ceramic shards and not yet sprouted bulbs laying on top of the mess.
Some time during the night Finn had snuck into the sunroom and sniffed his way to my shamrocks destruction. A small thing in the grand scheme of things, but in a world balancing so many big problems, the little annoyances of living, unreasonably multiply.
We’d been without water for three days, almost all protections to slow the spread of covid have been lifted, medicines meant for the severely immunocompromised to prevent death from covid infection are in very low, to nonexistent supply. The people who do have supply don’t know what to do with them or how to decide who gets them. My boys lives on hold for two years in order to protect their high risk family members from covid, the war in Ukraine, worry over a despot with nuclear powers, and a new diagnosis and another on the way… it’s all just too much.
I had John clean up the shamrock mess, and sent him, and Austin, and the dog outside to weed and mulch the lily beds. Not even Finn’s happy wagging tail was enough to cheer my overwhelm. I needed to be alone.
I tried to write, to read, to focus, but nothing came. Instead I searched the internet reading about my newest diagnosis. It’s not a big thing, something I’ve suspected for a few years, and all the treatments I’m currently on are also the treatments for this, so no change in the future for that. And, it’s not progressive or devastating- just uncomfortable dry skin and dry eyes. I already knew that.
The other thing the rheumatologist is investigating requires another X-ray followed by an MRI. She doesn’t expect the X-ray to tell her what she needs but insurance won’t approve the MRI without doing the other first. We’re looking for evidence I know is there. My lower back hurts. It’s stiff. It’s getting worse. I have the gene. She knows what she’s looking for, I know what’s she’s looking for. Neither one can say until we have the findings but we both know the bones in my back are causing my pain. It’s not from injury, it’s from disease — probably. I have the gene.
So, the shamrocks, my hope for joy, my daily thrill watching them sprout, and grow, and open and close with the light and cool, was dashed. It was too much for a day full of weight, to see my hopes smashed to pieces on my sunroom floor.
This morning the sun is shining, we have water, the lily beds are weeded and mulched, and Finns happy morning greeting was more welcome than usual. I’m refreshed and ready to write. Sometimes the world is heavy but with a bit of rest and a lot of sunshine, and plenty of love, we find ways to to help each other get through the hard things of life.
