Five days with a black eye and all I’ve gotten are looks of concern and pity. Not one person has asked me whether I got into a bar fight. My aspirations to be a badass are obviously falling on deaf ears, or is that “blind eyes”?
Enough about that. Lest I left you with the impression last week that I was mistreated by the medical establishment, I must clarify a few matters. I don’t want anyone to be unduly concerned about my physical or emotional well-being.
Many of you have expressed concern about my recent surgery. Sure, it wasn’t the most fun day I’ve had in a while, my care was inattentive bordering on neglectful, but I relished the great story I’d get out of it. I found it hard to limit myself to 500 words that post because there was so much to tell you. I failed to mention, for example, that I was sent home with a needless prescription for narcotics, which I’d have known was needless had anyone briefed me on my recovery. A little soft feather to gently soothe my irritated eye would have been much more useful.
I seem to have upset even more people when I wrote again about the health-related losses on my mind of late, Don’t cry for me,
Argentina dear readers. I know we all experience losses–they are a byproduct of living. Perhaps I am too highly attuned to mine. Know that after I acknowledge them, I try not to dwell on them, and I don’t want you to either.
Let’s get back to my silver lining, shall we? I am blessed with a loyal, kind, and supportive spouse, a sweet if ill-behaved dog, and a wonderful community of support. I fill my time with many activities I enjoy. I have been awed by the beautiful fall leaves of late, and yoga is always a good diversion. I am riveted every Sunday to The Great British Bake Off, even if Canada is a few seasons behind and I already know who’s going to win. (Darn you, Wikipedia, and darn me for killing the suspense.) And there was my guest appearance at the Bone Marrow consultation group a few weeks back, which I can now look back on with pride. Most days are good days.
Take Friday, for example, when a few friends joined me last minute at my second annual Light the Night Walk to End Blood Cancer. It was a beautiful fall night, I was in good company and, as a patient-survivor I got special attention (you know how much I love special attention)–a white lantern that stood out from the crowd of red (supporters) and gold (in memory), a white rose at the finish line, and amidst the larger community of support, my own personal cheerleading squad. Even my dear friend, C., despite his difficulties ambling lately, made the trek.
If I neglected to invite you, please remember that poor planning on my part does not constitute an emergency on yours. Maybe you’d keep the evening of Friday, October 16, 2016 available, since I’d appreciate any and all company next year. If I get enough people together, we can even have a team. I can see the shirts: “Annie’s Army…since no one can do it alone.” Are you in?