I’m not exactly sure how to write this post.
I know the end. I know how it began. I may have to go to the end and work my way back.
I haven’t posted anything real since ‘Day For Night’. (see Blog Post #8) I thought that was a pretty good one. It’s a poem you know. I didn’t realize I was writing a poem until it was finished. My sister would be proud.
But I felt so…I don’t know what…after that, it was hard to see the next stepping stone. At least one on the subject of finding one’s self. Which is what this whole blog, THE LAST SHIKSA RETURNS…, is supposed to be about.
The last few weeks it has been easier to write outside myself. (See Blog Post #9).
So, let’s get to the end of the story.
My husband took me. He does that. He often takes me to doctoral procedures because he knows I get a little bit shook up. I don’t like doctors. I don’t trust the medical community as a whole. If I could chew bark and steam for all my maladies, I would gladly do it. I have done. Don’t even get me started on the pharmaceutical industry. (That being said I know doctors save lives everyday. They have saved people very dear to me and I am grateful.)
My dermatologist is a small, stoic woman. She has interesting shoes and glasses. I have seen her three times in fifteen years. She is gravely concerned for my Celtic heritage in this sun drenched community where I dwell.
Grave. That is a good word for her, she is grave.
During my excision – well prior, while I was numbing – I asked if she could give my husband, patiently waiting in the room of the same name, an update. I told her ‘he gets a little nervous.’ She was literally taken aback. She stepped back. She asked, ‘did he come with you to drive you home from this?’
Aside: Doctor and I had just had a discussion how something on the back of your body that you cannot see seems so much larger than it actually is. The issue I was seeing her about today – she said on my perception scale it probably felt like a 9 out of 10 whereas she saw it as a 2. Ergo, her reaction to the fact that someone had come along to drive me home from basically having a splinter removed. But not just someone. More specifically my husband.
The excision of course went swimmingly. She announced completion, that I was the proud of owner of 2, count ’em 2, stitches, instructed in care of wound, and that I could now re-organize myself and join my husband. And then she said the most amazing thing. She said, “I wish I had someone that loved me. Besides my dog and my, you know, family members. I wish I had a husband that loved me like that.”
Time stopped. The naked honesty from this deeply personal person ripped right to my core. Several thoughts raced through my mind:
- How lucky I am.
- How all the forces of the universe had conspired in countless, endless ways for me to be right there in that moment right then.
- How, pure and chaste, this grave and stoic doctor had just put her wish out into the Universe and I believe she is going to get it.
- How the angels were dancing on the head of that pin again.
And how – and this is the very end of the story – we must love. And we must act on our love. We must be grateful. And we must act on our gratitude. We must thank those that love us, and care for us, and make us their one and only, and go with us to medical procedures that they don’t really need to go to just because it makes us feel safe. “’Cherish’ is the word I use to describe….”
Do that right now. Please. Go right now and kiss and hug, or call, or text, or FB, or email, or make a wish, to the one that cherishes you.
Cherish them back.
Now ‘the forces of the Universe conspiring’ is the front end of this story. It involves several intricate paths that crossed and re crossed. Many angels danced. And in several different styles. All except folk-dancing.
It began I think with Distractions (see every Blog Post since the beginning of time), Purposes and Goals, Putting Down That Heavy Load, Difficult Children, Magic, and I think , as you know, it all started with The Enchanted Land of the Intuitive and why I seem to keep leaving every time I get there.
But really it all started, the first angel danced, when the WiFi wouldn’t work.
I’ll tell you that story next week.
For now listen to this and you will know how I’m feeling.