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Going The Distance

9 Mar

Do you know what going the distance truly means?  It means, making it through (what ever “through” happens to be) when the adrenaline spike is no longer assisting your stamina.  It means, remaining joyful when the dopamine and serotonin levels in the brain have dropped as a result of the biological crisis mode switching to off.  It means, not just finishing the race (life), but living in such a way that you know finishing is happening.  Which in essence is, the ability to make it through the “normals”.

Was that too abstract a thought for anyone to follow?  I apologize if the answer to my question is “yes”.  But for me, tonight, I feel the pains of “going the distance.”  And tonight, “the pain”  happens to be, the practice of flushing out the thoughts of doubt that are trying to creep into my head.  That are trying to cause me to give up, that are lying to me by way of manipulative, passive aggressive tactic.  The reason I feel pain is that my emergency strength, otherwise known as adrenaline, has called it quits for the day.  So I am left to my own “normal” ability to recall lessons learned, and left to my own “normal” desire to remain fixated on past encouragements rooted in truth.  I am also having to–key phrase here–put into practice what I know to be true and right…even when I want to walk away and bury my head in the sand.  All of which take a level of commitment I’m sometimes unsure I naturally posses.  You see, “going the distance” has somewhat of an athletic team-like connotation.  I was a dancer, not a sportsman(woman).  I understand hard workouts and focused practices, but not distance.  Our routines were, at most, 10 minute increments–maybe fifteen.  I played singles tennis…never doubles.  It was fast paced achievement or hard earned defeat, never distance.  Thus I can assure you, I feel pain when pushing forward, pressing on toward the goal, and keeping my eye fixed on the prize.

So tonight, I am going the distance.  And where ever you are, and whatever your “through” happens to be, I hope you will, along with my tired self, go the distance too.

…thank you for listening (or reading really).

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Perspective

6 Dec

Cole and I are back in San Jose.  We are in a hotel, and Piper (the dog) is with us.  Our room is spacious and the hotel package comes with daily complimentary breakfast and dinner.  And if I don’t look too closely, and if I don’t acknowledge the taste of tin in the beans and enchiladas,  I am happy and grateful to have the spacious room and food to eat.  It’s all in how you look at it, right?!

The last time we were up here Dr. Zhu wanted Cole to keep the needles in his scalp until bedtime (at the very least), but Cole wasn’t comfortable going back to the house, of my god parents, with needles still intact.  And I confess, I proclaimed that I didn’t want to be a part of the removal process.  So it worked out that the doctor removed them just before we left the clinic, thus Cole and my inhibitions were catered to, and we did not have to rise to yet another occasion.  But that is not the case this time.  Being that we are in a “hotel” (I use the word loosely, only because it reminds me more of a motel–though the staff are very kind), Cole decided to give it a go…and who am I to get in the way of progress!?  So just a few moments ago, after ingesting my free meal, I removed the needles.  WHEW!!

By the way, we both survived.  …just a few drops of blood!

Having Piper with us has been interesting.  We went first to Sacramento so we could attend the memorial service of my Aunt Hilda on Saturday.  My mom graciously agreed to house us all for the 2 days we were there.  She allowed Piper to take over her house as well as utilize her back yard.  Then we came to the “hotel”.  Piper is adjusting, but not having an enclosed yard is trying–for her and for me.  In fact, I need to wrap up this post because I need to take ‘her majesty’ out to do her business before we all turn in.  I have been on the mad search for an enclosed dog park so our little lady can go off leash for a time (she’s not used to doing her “main business” on leash), and thanks to my connections in the bay area (Stacey), I know where to go when tomorrow comes.

Uh oh, Cole just asked me if I smell cigarette smoke.  Yes I do.  The “hotel” is non-smoking, but that is all a matter of PERSPECTIVE!  So Cole and I (and Piper too) are deciding to like the smell of stale. second-hand smoke wafting down the hallway.  At least we don’t have carpeted floors.  In fact, I am sitting on the couch typing and there is a full length mirror in front of me.  I have just told my mirror-image that it’s a good time for a walk.  So ciao for now.

Cole and Piper on the couch in our hotel--needles still in!

 

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Hemorrhoids

22 Nov

I am sitting here at my home computer.  Yes, home.  Cole and I have returned safely.  And although Piper went for an accidental swim one night in our absence, and though I had to rush Buddy (our little chihuahua/terrier) to the Vet Clinic last night because Piper saw fit to take a bite out of his neck and ear, for the most part the house is in order.  So here I sit in luxury with a portable heater to keep my feet and exposed ankles warm, coupled with ‘Rachmaninoff fan radio’ streaming from Pandora’s box.  Brian is in his 7p.m. position on the couch (eyes closed), Cole is finishing his dinner, and Esther is off yonder-armed with a new driver’s license and a willing accomplice…her vehicle.  And today I have decided it would be a blatant injustice to not return Cole to San Jose for another week of intensified treatment.  Brian agrees.  Cole is on the fence–for two reasons only.

  1. He doesn’t want to be away from Piper for another week.
  2. The treatment is a lot of work, and it’s exhausting.

I guess the treatment, for Cole, is akin to having hemorrhoids post childbirth.  After birth, you have in your life a new bundle of joy, with hopes and promises for the future.  Yet the whole process of bearing-down has left you with a sore anal sphincter.  But does the memory of the pain override your biological nature, and keep you from further pro-creation?  Of course not–at least not from the act of trying! 🙂  I know, I know…Cole wouldn’t describe his comprehensive acupuncture treatment using the same metaphorical approach as I have, but I’m sure the women reading this will get it!

The photos I am including in this post showcase more of the facility, as well as Dr. Moyee working alongside Cole by massaging and exercising the muscles in his face and eyes that have lay dormant these past 8 months.  The fact that they are waking up and showing signs of new life are so exciting!  He can feel his face, he can feel his foot, he can move his eye balls left and almost right.  I cannot ignore this renaissance!!  Nor can Brian (and in truth, nor can Cole).  Even his physical therapist today said she noticed an improved coordination on his left side–the side effected by his stroke incident!  There is also a photo of Dr. Moyee guiding Cole on his balance and gait.  To not return to the same intensive, hands on, comprehensive care, I feel would NOT be a prudent decision.  …one more week, Cole, one more week!

The photo of the ‘Oscar Mayer Wienermobile’ is just an added bonus–our prelude before the Grapevine.  It kind of reminds me of what an actual hemorrhoid looks like, so its placement here is appropriate, though the reasoning not so much…  What can I say, things in life seem to always point me toward some kind of hole! 🙂

 

 

 

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