The blessing of ice. Of a good night’s sleep.
How a simple sandwich can make a day. Or a good book.
Finding the ground beneath me by turning on the iron — a good thing, long overdue.
The infinite varieties of sun and shadow speak. You are alive, they say. With eyes to see!
Stray dogs can break your heart and so can a cadre of wrecking balls. So much wreckage! The scared little beagle we saw two days ago still has not been reunited with his owner. Will we ever know what happened to him? The courts are working triple time thank god but still we must wonder, what will happen when Mango Mussolini defies a court order. What then? The commentators ask. What then?
The lost and the ruined cannot be neutralized by a club sandwich or a prize-winning novel but I still feel gratitude. I don’t know how to sit with things. If this isn’t already a constitutional crisis, I also don’t know what to say.
And life keeps rolling on.
Today I went to PT and the elevator I was riding from four to ground stuttered suddenly and yanked to a stop. Screech! Clunk! Weird wobble. Somewhere between floors three and two.
The other passenger and I gasped, looked at each other wide-eyed. Are we gonna die? She hit the alarm button. Once. Twice.
I was carrying crutches. The ones my PT had just adjusted for me. The ones I’ll use after my hip is replaced next week.
And you know, it’s been a year. A year since I asked for an MRI (and got an order for an X-ray instead, which added about four months to the process). But never mind that — it’s been doctor visit after doctor visit, a year of PT, two cortisone shots, and finally an MRI and then another X-ray. And another. A cardiac work up. PCP sign off. Surgery scheduled. Cancelled. Rescheduled.
And I couldn’t escape the irony. What if after ALL THAT, I died in a heap of malfunctioning metal and cables, dust settling on crutches never put to use?
Noting irony is better than feeling terror, but I do wonder: Was that weird of me?
We heard the other elevator whisper in its adjacent chute. Senses on triple alert. What would happen next? Would anyone come to save us? Could they? Save us?
Then ours resumed. We held our breath. We held our breath. But it was as though nothing had happened. The doors opened to the lobby and we both walked out into our day. I, to grocery shop, she to who knows what.
UPDATE
I’m so glad you got out unscathed except for the terror and the dark amazement that comes with this. I hope someone takes action pronto. And the hip surgery–may that be a smooth procedure and the new hip enduring. I’ll be there too at some point–aches in my hip joints.
Doris
Thanks for the well-wishes, Doris. Maybe you can use my crutches when your time comes?
“Dark amazement”. I like that combo of words. Really like it. Thanks for that too.
Holy crap, that elevator story….and oh!! The irony! 🤦♀️
Hope your surgery goes well!!
(& Yes, somehow we cling to the “little things”, or else lose what little sanity we have left ( not much!!)
“If this isn’t already a constitutional crisis…”I wish they would just say it!!!
The elevator sounds quite unnerving. That was not at all a strange thought, to me anyway. And hips…may your hip surgery go as wonderfully as J’s did. Really wishing you all of the best. Got your shower seat and reacher tool ready?! I will be thinking of you. 💕 Glad the pup was found 🙂
Ironing and irony. I think it’s time for magnets.
I don’t get it.
Sandwiches, a good book, we need these and anything else that brings normalcy, and moments of being focused on just taking care of our self. We need these simple acts of “nourishment” in order to replenish our spirits and determination for this is a constitutional crisis…
What we don’t need are scares as in an elevator stopping but even there, you hung on, and all was well and all will be well with your hip surgery. Sending healing thoughts before, during and after you surgery Dee. As your surgery is in March and as March is the time of the wearing of the green, may all the saints and leprechauns and Celtic goddesses, stand watch over you. May you tie a green ribbon on your crutches, green for life, for spring draws near and the green shoots will soon rise from the earth as will you, sans crutches, and ready to dance a jig!.
Thank you for your well wishes Marti. On most days, you are more Irish than I am!
Glad you are alight!! How terrible, and thankfully the stupid escalation machine came back. As our infrastructure is bound to drop by into decline, for those who do have private jets and helicopters,. beware. xxoo
Yeah the wreckage has only just begun. I’m nervous about flying this year.
The hoops we have to jump through to finally get what the doctors knew to begin … it really is crazy. I do love reading your stories and your stuck elevator did not disappoint. I am praying that all goes well with your surgery … looking forward to all the before during and after surgery stories. That sandwich looks yummy … I’ve had the stomach flu the last few days and was happy to hold down a banana this morning.
Oh sorry! I’ve heard this year’s flu is a doozy. It WAS a good sandwich, packed with mayo and nostalgia!
Thanks for the shove to the back doctor. A good sandwich can make a day. Now to go in search of some good pastrami, although I don’t have a lot of hope.
Let me know how it goes.
Hip replacement!?! How did I miss this. Ouch. Best of luck with it Dee. I will check in to see how you are soon.
Thanks Ginny!