Live to the Point of Tears

   

     I love these words by Albert Camus...Twas my hope and dream when moving back to the country to place myself in a setting so as to live life this way…to live more fully…more meaningfully. It’s the counter solution to Thoreau’s observation that most men lead lives of quiet desperation, and given I too, wanted out of the rat race…well, this is my sign to hold to the vision.

     I dare say most of us hit it pockets…those fleeting moments when life is unexplainably emotional for the simplest of things, yet you feel your heart might burst right out of your chest. Such was my day today, though I’ve no doubt fear and exhaustion contributed as well.

     No sooner did I push send on a blog ending with a rosey report on Rosey-dog, did all hell break loose. For starters, she’s not eating. We’re going on 2 full days now with nothing more than cheese-wrapped meds (meaning half the time the meds come back). Meanwhile, her stapled skin is now turning a putrid greenish/gray as she is hell-bent on removing the foreign objects herself. As if this weren’t disturbing enough, while feeding the rest, I lean over to hug Hiccapup, only to encounter a rather large cyst on the left side of his chest. (While fatty globules are fairly common in older dogs, Hics is only seven months old. A baseball-size cyst could not be good.)

     In a prayer more fearful than faithful I beg “Dear God. I don’t think I can handle one more wounded creature right now.” It was about this time the dam burst. (Note: These are not the tears Camus wrote of.)

     Trying to pull myself together I head in to call the vet, when my phone won’t let the call go through without my monthly review of voice messages. (This happens every 21 days—a Verizon reminder that saved messages take up space, and it only takes punching a seven to clear out your box.)

     Of messages saved, one is from my father, which I keep…the last before he died. The message, simply says “I don’t know how much time I have left, but whatever it is, I just want to spend it loving folks…YOU in particular.”  He was worried for me; fearful I might not do well with his passing and he had good reason to be concerned. He was a partner in my business and an anchor in my life and in truth I had no clue how I’d fare with him gone. Somehow hearing his voice every 21 days reminds me that he’s still watching and ironically (I use the word not believing in irony) …that message seems to make its way into my life on the very days I need it most.

     Now dealing in two separate vets (and two separate vet bills) I first call to ask if they can send someone for Rosey, thinking if we don’t get these staples out the poor dog is going to chew her way into her intestines. Meanwhile Hics’ vet can’t come for another day so I am stuck waiting it out.

     With everyone fed and meds in as best I could muster (including Minsky, who at 14 1/2 has her own physical challenges) I do my mental best to shift my focus to work, after all, I need the distraction and whatever lies ahead will not be without financial challenges. I pick up my phone to reschedule a meeting, when, in a pattern that has never happened before, my father’s voice message plays a second time.

      Much as I didn’t need to blow off business, I was worthless to go on. Anything with numbers or contracts or decision-making involved was not going to get a focused me, so I gave myself permission to do what is as unnatural for me as living under water—I did nothing. Whatever’s going to happen is going to happen. Heck, who knows how much time I have with any pup (or cat or fish or friends for that matter? Who knows what’s going to happen tomorrow?)

     In humbled silence I head for my bookcase in search of something inspirational when my eye caught a glimpse of the last birthday card my dad gave me…

     My third message of the day…

 "Everything Will Fall Into Place..."

     I recall once a Beyond Reason guest who, in speaking of life on the other side, said “Just because you die doesn’t make you smart, but it does change your seat in the arena.” She likened those on the other side to eagles flying above, while the rest of us here on planet earth see mostly from side to side. From the bird’s eye-view, they can see things we cannot, based solely on their perch.

     As example she posited: Suppose you are driving up a mountain on a single lane, and another car’s coming down the mountain and around the bend at the same time. From your vantage point, with a mountain in your way, you can’t see what lies ahead, but an eagle, flying overhead could foresee the point of intersection.

     This would not make the bird psychic, though we might interpret it as such.

     So it goes with those on the other side according to her theory. They can see things we cannot. And according to her belief, if they can get a message to us, slow us down, have us shift our gears…well our one job is to pay attention. Be alert. Be aware. Adjust our receptors so as to not miss the signs.

     As for how this affects my dogs’ reports (or any reports for that matter) I cannot say. But it was enough to slow me down significantly for a day. It occurred to me in my slowdown, that maybe that’s the beauty of pain (if there is such a thing). When we’ve exhausted all our best thinking, what more can we do but let go (and let God)?

“What time I am afraid, I will put my trust in thee.”  Psalm 56:3