It’s taken weeks, or more accurately, months for me to get to writing again which begs the question: What’s up with that? There’ve been lots of attempts on my part, with actual hours spent typing away. Mostly though, my dabbling’s aren’t worthy of your eyes (or mine, for that matter) and so into the Recycle Bin they go. Today, however, I’m gettin’ back on the horse. Something’s gonna get written. Giddy-up!
Speaking of horses, a friend is taking lessons. I thought I’d join her some Saturday, not to ride necessarily, just to hang out, lend a hand, tickle a nose. I miss having horses in my life. I don’t miss the heavy lifting, of course. Cleaning a large paddock when sitting a friend’s pair on the Island a few years ago reminded me that horses are bloody hard work and not for the faint of heart – or body – mine being ridiculously our of shape. Speaking of the body…
In the height of the pandemic’s tsunami of unknowns, I needed a doctor. Not being an emergency (I didn’t have COVID), I waffled. How on earth do you even see a doctor, I wondered? Ah ha, online!
I made a virtual appointment and felt a bit sheepish about my rather vain, non-emergency issue. Lucky for me, the doctor didn’t judge and told me what I was experiencing was common. Before signing off, I casually mentioned a thingy on my leg. The thingy had been on my leg for a very long time. Over the years, different doctors had peered at it, rubbed it, or poked it and concluded it was probably nothing of concern.
But the thingy had changed several times. I had a feeling it had gone to the dark side.
My virtual doctor neither peered, rubbed nor poked (the latter two are impossible in a virtual setting, anyway). She did not prescribe a salve, suggest we should explore further, ask for more pictures, or dismiss me. She arranged for me to see a specialist, up close and personal, immediately.
Within two weeks, the thingy was no more and all I had to show for it were five stitches and the bad news.
No one ever wants to hear they have cancer even when it’s relatively insignificant and the prognosis for said cancer is superb. The word strikes terror in your being. Your breath catches in your throat, your stomach rolls, your brain fogs up. Assured repeatedly that my basal cell had been totally de-carcinoma-d, all I kept hearing was cancer. The panic passed but it took a couple more specialists visits and more reassurances from those “in the know”.
That was last year and where the little thingy was is now a jagged, ugly, purple scar. It is fading but not fast enough for me. The scarring might have been minimized if the incision had stayed closed after the sutures were removed. The dehiscence was total, though, and the wound remained opened for quite sometime before healing set in. It did heal, though, and as with so many things, it could have been worse.
Taking care of ourselves isn’t always easy. I tend to put off seeing doctors but am always relieved to either finally address an issue, or find out that an issue is actually “nothing”. Naysayers like to remind us that doctors make mistakes, or worse, diagnose us based on whichever big pharma owns them. I’m officially old now so have been around the block and can honestly say I haven’t experienced either. I have met a lot of charlatans in the well-being industry, though, but that’s another topic for another day, because, there are wonderful healers within that community, too.
Like writing for me, most things that we put off, we do for any number of reasons. Perhaps we’re afraid of what we will find out, or we are temporarily distracted by life events. Maybe we’re pushing back against the discipline we need to apply to type out a simple sentence, spend quality time with some gentle equines, or visit the doctor.
All of these things and more, of course, reflect our resistance to self-care, something that is necessary to keep health and balance in our lives. When we feel overwhelmed and filled with stressful thoughts, when anxiety precipitates each breath, it is time to slow down and surrender, a response the often feels highly counter-intuitive. It is often, however, the only way to find peace, calm, or a return to health.
My wish for you all today is that you focus your gaze on being centred in mind and body. Explore new techniques, or reuse those that have served you well in the past. Remember to breathe. Remember to speak lovingly to yourself and others. Who knows, you might find it easier than you think to write that sentence, stand quietly beside a beautiful animal, or seek help from an expert.