This week, something unusual happened.
It wasn’t the snowstorm. Having to park the car by the road at the end of our lane to be sure we can get to work in the morning isn’t that strange, even though the snow-laden trees are beautiful. Here in Pomquet, in Antigonish County, a storm day requiring our neighbour to come plow us out is starting to feel like a bi-weekly event. I had some trouble keeping up with Sara on her march to the car. But no, it wasn’t that.
Nor was it the sauna. In December, on receiving unexpectedly good news after a scary cancer test, I decided I’m not getting any younger and I’d buy that sauna kit I’ve dreamt of for years (ever since being pastor to the wonderful Montreal Finns and enjoying the rite with them). With the help of local carpenter extraordinaire Evan Theriault (Theriault Timberworks) I’m hoping we soon have our very own sauna in action for relaxing in this deep-freeze. That will be great. But no, it wasn’t that.
And no, it wasn’t that I’m starting to feel increasingly guilty about my handicapped parking sticker. Yesterday I felt badly using the space at the Farmers’ Market, although in the end I’m glad I did, since my balance on ice still isn’t the greatest. I’ve started to leave spots closest to the door for those who need them more. I guess that says something about my recovery and the general improvement to my walking! It’s easier and easier for me to tramp around the property, even on days like this (see below). But it’s still not that.
Nor is it that the big, furry feral feline we named Theodore, whom Sara trapped, neutered, and had patched up by the vet for his infected paw injury, didn’t immediately spring back out into the wild on his release. Instead he surprised us by turning into some kind of indoor love-bunny. He has apparently decided to adopt us. He’s incredibly smart and affectionate. As a dog person and someone with mild allergies I don’t encourage Theodore too much, but he seems to think I’m okay. We’re warming up to each other. But it’s not that either.
Nor is it that Sara tried her hand at making bagels (Montreal-style, of course!). As I write this I’m enjoying that yeasty, honey-laden smell and taste, and I can’t wait to try them with cream cheese. A rare delight and pleasure, indeed! (Recipe here). But no, not that…
Finally, it’s not that for the first time in months I dusted off my completed novel manuscript and read through it again, and I still think it’s great! I’ve been inspired to start sending it out to publishers again. The drawing below is from my friend Robert Aubé (more at his website). The novel is set in the very real location of St James Anglican Church, Cacouna QC. I’m rejuvenated. But no. Not that either…
What it IS, is that this last week I had Sara film my daily attempts at guitar. Every day I try to get my left hand fingers to move better by practising my playing. Here’s where I’m at post-stroke as of yesterday: https://vimeo.com/1157626018?share=copy&fl=sv&fe=ci
And here’s where I was pre-stroke, with that same piece (and with help from my youngest). I hope someday to get back to this level: https://vimeo.com/433444043 .
No. What actually happened this week that was unusual, was that I watched the recording Sara made, then the one from a couple of years ago. Then I broke down and cried.
I don’t weep like that often. It wasn’t from sadness, exactly, although I know I’ve lost much. I had to reflect a while on it. It’s complicated. While some of it was sadness, more of it was happiness – happiness I’m alive. Even though a year ago I could only twitch my thumb (and barely that), and now my hand has dramatically improved and is still getting better. Some of my tears came, I think, from realizing just what an endurance test recovery has been, despite the help and support of so many: the months of struggling with coats, and socks, and shoes, and bags, and silverware, and backpacks, and grocery bags, and everything else. Every day making the decision to use my left hand even though every time, it’s harder. (I just remembered to do it again, while typing this sentence.)
My point is NOT that congratulations are needed. There are lots of folks who’ve had it much worse. And there are certainly others who have to be much much more courageous. It’s that we are, all of us, emotional creatures, whole beings with needs, regrets, hopes, sadnesses, and joys. All. And life can sometimes feel the most beautiful, and the most rewarding, in precisely those times when it’s not the easiest.
I wouldn’t wish my stroke on anyone. But I was glad, this week, to go through such a heart-filling experience as that unexpected cry. Given the state of the world right now, we probably all need one.
somethinggrand 