What a strange December day this was, with temperatures hovering near 70 degrees, beckoning me to take a long walk. Instead, I went to church in Summit. I shared with some women friends there my good news of being cleared for what could have been very bad news regarding my health. I only wish there were more hours in my day. I arrived at church late, leaving my cell phone in my coat pocket and it went off during the sermon, making me want to die of embarrassment. I usually leave this monster of an instrument in the car whenever I go to church only this time I forgot. There is much on my mind, and besides, I am addicted to my cell phone, foolishly, I might add. After chatting for a while during coffee hour, I resumed my endless chores of supermarket shopping. I bought wonderful desserts for neighbors as gifts as well as for ourselves to enjoy. I used to bake everything but no more. I am grateful for the quality of the stores and bakeries in my area.
But the warmth of the temperature, its oddity, kept coming through, telling me to get out to exercise, it would be the right thing to do. But no, there were still more items on my “To Do List”, and I was very focused.
Later, I almost went on the walk but realized Paris needed to be walked and fed. So, I got his leash and took him out. It is like a miracle to walk him now compared to the recent past. He was sick for two years with anaplasmosis that was not properly diagnosed and treated until late this summer after he had surgery to suture several dog bites he had suffered from Casanova. A higher dosage of doxycyclin was administered than previous times. Having the correct dosage allowed his skin infections to heal as well as the anaplasmosis. Now, he walks with the special and unique gate a sight-hound has, or especially a borzoi, very light and springy on the feet, something he had lost over two years ago. It brought me so much joy to see it. I felt such pride in my beautiful borzoi, this special, unique and precious borzoi. He had been through a great deal over the past two years, my mistakes in his care were many. I assume all of the blame for them, but that is all in the past, and he is well now.
As we turned onto the street to walk toward home, we walked close to a house where there were two car lights on in the driveway. I have no idea what was happening there but I heard the unmistakable sound of a woman, it sounded like a young woman for some reason to me, who was heavily sobbing and hysterical. It was a scene that was the worst kind you want to hear, or at least I would want to hear, because it was so reminiscent of scenes I myself lived through and it all rushed over me again from long dormant memories. I wished so much that I could walk the few short steps it would have taken me to go over to her with Paris and ask if there was anything I could do to help…… or if perhaps there was something I could say that might be of help…… I wanted to tell the woman or the girl that in time everything passes even pain and she would feel better again….. that she should let her suffering run its course through her and ease in whatever way she could….. that nothing – even terrible pain – lasts forever. The sound of a woman’s hysterical crying brought me back to a place in my memory that was now closed to me. I could no longer go back there to visit and allow it to hurt me anymore.
I mentioned in my last Blog that I had not acknowledged, recognized or even remembered a sacred day on my life’s calendar, the death of Opal on July 7, 2006……. or the loss of Tresor in April 2011……… or the move out of Blyss House in Decemeber 2012……….. I have been anaesthisized by time. And who am I now, without these benchmarks acknowledged front and center, in the forefront of my mind? Have I become so vacuous, so shell shocked to use a dated expression, so zoned out by my maintenance meds? Am I cheating by using them, because two doctors tell me I am not and it is okay according to them? If that isn’t cheating, then what is it? So, I was walking my borzoi this evening near my house and came upon a woman sobbing very hysterically in her driveway, trying to speak but unable, and clearly suffering. I was stunned to realize that woman was me once upon a time. I had changed by losing that part of myself. And although I wanted to go over to her and ask to help her, by telling her she would be okay in time, I didn’t. I had become a different person by the time that had passed over me.