Sunday, December 21, 2014

Solstice

 


“It's very difficult to look at the World
and into your heart at the same time.
In between, a life has passed.”
Jim Harrison

In the hospital room, a few hours out of intensive care, somebody asked me “What will you do about this?”

Linda Reis (bless her heart) said “I know what you’ll do. You’ll write about it.”

Linda, as usual, was right. The problem is: a whisker close brush with the hereafter (actually two of them five days apart) is a big piece of landscape, and a fair treatment could grow easily into a dreary and self-absorbed tome, so let’s nip that crap in the bud, shall we? A summary is in order…

A years-long combination of self-abuse and the well documented failings of what passes for health care in this country reduced my ability to absorb oxygen to less than half that of a normal person. I managed to wreck a car after falling asleep at the wheel, stuffing myself beneath an 18-wheeler. I opened the door and walked away with a quarter sized bruise on my shoulder. Five days later, I became incoherent, was rushed to a hospital, and went into pulmonary arrest. I don’t remember most of it thank God. I awoke two days later intubated. When they yanked out the tube (something I do not wish on any of you) I was informed that miraculously, there was no damage to my heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, etc., that I had in fact stepped out of the way of another bullet.

There are the basics.

At some point, I want to talk about how a constitutionally vigorous physically tough person who has been an outdoorsman throughout his adult life gets to weigh nearly 400 pounds. Not now. The story is surprisingly complex, and is woven warp-and-weft with how we understand love and how we see ourselves. For now, just know that however you see yourself and your place in this world, you are at least partially deceived: maybe a whole lot. Examination is always worthwhile. Be careful.

Here is the real heart of this week’s story. My room filled with people who loved me. My text list and social media filled with messages that astonished me. My phone rang off the hook. People said things to me that moved me to tears. My family and friends entered my house, cleaned it, and prepared it in every way for my return. Kindnesses large and small rained on me, and they have not stopped yet. I remain humbled, bewildered, deeply and profoundly thankful.

As we enter the end-of-the-year festivities, I have something to tell you. I know now, in ways I did not ever fully comprehend, that I am beloved. I will not ever forget it. I hope you are too.

It is my intention to try to stick around and pay back what I owe for as long as I can. This is easier said than done, but I have a hard head and some experience in these matters. I also have many shoulders to lean on. Wish me luck.

Merry…Happy…

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4 comments:

  1. Jeez Joe -- the lengths some people will go to for a sponge bath! You had us worried and we're so glad to hear that things are improving for you. John will break his usual "no alcohol rule" and drink to your good health! Patty

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  2. No luck needed, just lean when needed.

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  3. Putting some Soul back into Solstice..

    "The one thing that can solve most of our problems is dancing"
    James Brown

    Dance on Bear ! Your pal. Tom Williams

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  4. So glad you are back at it and hoping that "the bear" is ready for life renewed with hope and vigor- enjoy the holidays and best wishes from your friends in archaeology.

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