Worthy

At the December 15 appointment where the surgeon qualified me for the hip replacement surgery I desperately need, I was instructed that I could expect surgery in 6 weeks and that the scheduler would be in touch within 10 days.  When 10 days without a call passed, I called the scheduler.  She was polite but had no date - or even a prospective date - and indicated that I’d have a four week lead when she finally got me on the calendar.  It’s been three weeks since that first appointment; and more than one week since I called the scheduler.  I still don’t have a surgery date. 

The joy and relief I felt on December 15 has begun to wane.  As each day without a surgery date comes to a close, I make the struggle upstairs to bed where in the quiet darkness, I fend off the waves of despair that I feel.  With the help of my amazing pain management doctor, I can get some rest, but I haven’t had a full night of sleep since August.   January 16 will mark the start of my 6th month of living with crippling hip pain.  Over the last 5 months - 5 months - I’ve learned some tools to manage the disability.  But my world is small.  I go to work and then I come home.  Once home, I mete out the last of my energy to cook supper or run a load of laundry.  Groceries must be picked up as I can no longer walk through the store.  JT is indispensable; he does the bulk of our household chores while also trying to keep my spirits up.  He is my daily source of gratitude and grace and he never complains about helping me. Walks outside, a trip to the movies or a bookstore or to a cultural event are simply not an option.  Food restriction remains in place so even if I could go to a restaurant (I can’t), what would be the point?  My life now is small and getting smaller. Everyone reassures me that once I get a hip, a life rich with prospects will re-emerge.  I hope so, but I fear otherwise.  I recognize the dangers of that fear. It’s incredibly easy for me to slip into despair and to wonder if any of these doctors who swore an oath to do no harm actually give a damn about me.  In this case, actions speak louder than words, so I know the answer.  

Still, I try to choose hope.  For my Christmas stocking, I bought myself a mystery box from my favorite jewelry shop.  Inside the box was a tiny silver ring engraved with the words “I Am Worthy.”  It feels like the universe delivered this timely reminder just when I needed it.  Being required to lose weight to qualify for necessary medical care is demeaning and demoralizing; a daily reminder that my needs matter less and that I am not worthy in the eyes of some doctors.  I play a waiting game for medical care denied me because I am fat; it’s a game that makes me feel that I am not worthy at all. So I slip my silver talisman on my finger and struggle onward.

Among the Trees: Finding Solace in the Light

 On my first day back from California, I took myself for a walk at Colonial Park.  New Jersey has had a mild Winter and there were signs of Spring everywhere. 

Since I’ve been home, I’ve kept an eager eye out for additional hints of green and warmth.  When I see them, I feel a tiny surge of hope.  

That’s nice, because it’s been a bit of a hard patch for me.  I’ve had a bunch of small challenges in the past two weeks.  My head knows that they are small in the big scheme but my heart lets the hurts add up and that finds me doubting myself, my worth, and my place in this world.  

I know the remedy:  rest and time outside.  With Spring Break starting at the end of this week, I’ll have the time for both.  There are people who depend on me and people who love me and I know and feel this.  I plan to lean in to the support.  I’m a regular champ at self-care and I have a list of small treats for the coming weeks.  I know the light can be found and I’ll be looking for it in the coming weeks.

Living in Hope, Always

2022 has been a really hard year for me; in many respects, the hardest year I’ve ever experienced.  Tiger the cat died in January.  My partner was angry and unhappy for much of the year and on my birthday  her blow up ended the relationship.  JT graduated college - a moment of enormous pride and joy for me - but he struggled with the meaning and purpose of his life in the aftermath.  It made for the most challenging parenting I’ve ever experienced.  

The year closes better than it started and given this storm of a year, that’s no small matter.  I wrap up 2022 aged 55 and single, a status I still find surprising to contemplate.  I am not lonely on my own, though I’m a little scared of growing old by myself and being a burden on JT.  I wonder why I never found someone to love me for the long haul.  In my darker moments, that makes me believe that there is something wrong with me.  I know that down that path lies despair.  Mostly, I avoid going there. 

Instead, I square my chin, make a list of the things for which I am grateful, and dismiss my self-doubts.  I remind myself that I am kind and funny; loyal and true.  I consult my affirmations and repeat that I am amazing, smart, and worthy.  Stylish and charming.  Beautiful.  Loved.  I’ve got a whole list of happy adjectives to repeat to myself as a reminder of the things I have going for me.  I know and recognize that truth.   

I always say that I live in hope and though much of 2022 felt like I was grasping for that hope in the midst of inky darkness, the year ends better than it began.  That’s hopeful and happy.  Here’s to 2023, with its new beginnings and living in hope.  

Self-Care and Kindness

In the aftermath of the break-up with T, I looked for ways to be kind to myself.   This is not a trait that comes easily to me but if ever a year called for kindness to myself, it is 2022.  I vowed to remember the little niceties that make my days better.  So it was that even when JT was out of the house, I set the dining room table and made supper for myself.  

Over the last few months, holding to this habit has paid dividends.  I sit with candlelight, music, something to read and I enjoy an evening meal.  There’s nothing quite like a cloth napkin, a home-cooked meal, and a seat at the table to remind myself that though I may feel bewildered and bruised by the last few months, I am still worthy.  

And I’ve the soup to prove it.