Life handed me a doozy of a lesson earlier this month when I had to undergo my first major surgery in the form of a knee replacement. I’d been feeling pretty cocky that I’d managed to escape any major illnesses or mishaps, but man, did this interject a note of harsh reality. Not only did the surgery and hospitalization prove a lot more grueling than I’d imagined, the entire process – exacerbated by my intolerance of pain meds – messed with my head. Or more accurately, my sense of myself as a vital, energetic and INDEPENDENT person.
It was humbling having someone here when I got home (mostly my wonderful daughter Erin) to help me with everything from medications to potty breaks. Ugh. Thankfully that phase didn’t last long, and soon I was able to do most things for myself. But it was a sobering reminder of aging and the fragility of life. I found myself feeling anxious about everything: where I was going with my life, what could go wrong – even my cats’ health.
Ginger, the ancient (probably 18) street cat I brought home five years ago, has lung cancer. I’ve known this for months now. They say it’s a slow-moving kind, and she could be around for a good while yet, but I was looking at her with new eyes. The restless and unpredictable tortie decided to claim an empty ornament box at the base of the Christmas tree for her new bed, and while I lay on my sofa, I would watch her sleeping.
“How many more Christmases do you have left?” I asked her softly. “I think maybe this is your last one.” And then, as befitting my exhaustion and sober mood, I burst into tears. Hearing me, she rose on stiffened legs, walked over and climbed up onto the couch to get in my face, rubbing hers on mine.
In five years, she has never done this once.
I chuckled. “Thank you,” I whispered. “Thanks for the reminder.” If we can just rise above temporary setbacks, crummy diagnoses and even physical pain, what there always is, is love and connection. And being present in the joy of NOW.
Happy holidays and and excellent critter love to all.
We find a gift of our humanity in our trials. Thank you for the reminder, Jane. and so happy for your healing – so you can continue the healing that calls you to our feral neighbors.