Bambi

I still can't watch the movie without crying; he lost his mother in the beginning.  It's not a cute name to be made fun of, let alone be adopted by a misogyny victim playboy bunny. 

I just watched a video of a doctor giving a baby deer CPR for nearly ten minutes, until it became conscious again to join his mother who was watching in the woods nearby.  I cried again.  Some would call her crazy, a doctor, with a pool the deer fell into; I don't think so.

We can't minimize the value of life, for any creature.  Did the Garden of Gethsemane compare to the duration of a term in a concentration camp where faith will not waiver there will be deliverance?  How did Nelson Mandela get through 27 years of hard labor without losing his mind enough to become the president of a country?  Miracles do happen every day.  We take too many of them for granted. 

And sometimes, when we may be given the opportunity to be part of a miracle, we don't know it when we see it.  I leave church late on a sunny day stopping to watch the geese graze on the property.  I don't take them for granted; they're as much a part of the sanctuary as the church itself.  I know everyone wouldn't agree with me. 

Every time I see a deer or cat walking across the field or near the parking area I feel as if I'm a stranger in someone's home.  I slow down or stop to take in the beauty of nature that only a higher power could have created.  They all exist for a reason, and sometimes it's to remind us what we can't take for granted, whether we're paying attention or not.  The truth is unwavering, whether we are aware of it or not. 

Words do not change facts simply by 'virtue' of being words, that can be used as much as weapons as vehicles for peace, which is not the absence of tension, but rather the presence of justice.  MLK was inspired to create a quote he originally found in scripture.  He didn't rely on what others said was written in the book.  He read it himself.  That knowledge was part of what set him apart.  It's easy now for some of us to take for granted the times he and those before him came through.  We can't.  None of us are guaranteed anything beyond the gift that is called the present.

Alive, And Well

The day has come, and passed, and I can not only walk: it's almost the same as before, with a corrected spine and no risk of damage for walking further or beyond the point of pain.  It was not easy; it was terrifying, and I had to prepare for the worst.  It was almost a surprise to wake up in ICU from an incomplete blood transfusion with low blood pressure; there was no memory from the time I was first injected with sedation until waking in ICU/recovery.  I didn't know I was in ICU at the time; I only knew it was over, and that I could feel my legs, and everything else.

The next few days into the next week were rough; I was out of ICU two days later, on Wednesday from Monday.  We had taken a 3:30 a.m. train to arrive at 6:30, an hour late; the ferry only ran hourly at that time, as if I didn't know.  It was too hard to remember everything.

My son had called the night before and I didn't get the message until days later, when I checked messages.  Phone reception where we've been has been less than ideal, though only one of a few drawbacks from being in a better place.  It's still a blur, and I'll be taking pills for awhile yet.  The new 'normal' is yet to be known: will I have to keep taking pills for pain, even if only over the counter?  Only time will tell.

Today, it was hard to take one medication that prevented taking anything for pain until a bit later, though I had slept the longest yet, to wake up to the reminder it was past time for 'help' with pain.  Now, I'm pushing time as long as possible until taking a pill or sleep is necessary: quite the spectrum.

It would not have been bearable without family.  I was impressed with their endurance, enthusiasm, good spirits, energy, and cooperation.  It was so much more than I could imagine.  There were multiple miracles over a two week period.

Missing was my son, though close in our hearts, as he was staying in touch more than usual from an unnatural distance.  That was the most painful, even more than the pain that set in at the peak time following the procedure.

I'm 'regrouping' now, as able as I wanted to be, happy that it became a reality from living scared and in the unknown on top of everything else for many months until what had to be done was finally finished, successfully.  'Grateful' does not capture it; it's much more than that.  A life was spared to continue a particular purpose, not least of all to keep a family together, and perhaps help others to do the same, for starters.