The Value in Nothing

In the still quiet of nothingIt’s late again (for me).  Later than it should be.  Later than it could be.  And this morning I just don’t care.  I am sitting on the front porch.  My deer friend Eloise (I’ve named her Eloise… the one that comes every morning to visit in the quiet before the world takes over) came to visit the yard this morning.  She was just out grazing… just hanging out… grazing…

Peanut, in her infinite wisdom, is laying at my feet watching the squirrels and the birds and the nothing go by.  She likes these quiet moments.

It’s been a full week.  The zoo and aquarium… Kings Island… water park… museums… boat cruises… Cedar Point and the fair…  It’s been a week of trying to show my little boy that Ohio can be fun and having family around can be fun and it has all been too much.

Little boy (all 5′ 10”… or so he claims… I see 6 feet myself) has Sjögren’s.  He’s medicated (most of the time) but it’s still what it is… and it’s still what he’s coping with.  He also has osteo-arthritis (even though the IMMENSELY educated yoga instructor says you CAN NOT HAVE osteo at such a young age) in both of his knees.  He’s 22 going on 50 a lot of the time.  It hurts my heart.  Last night he kind of fell apart.  He’s absolutely exhausted.  Having fun and trying to cram as much fun into a week as you possibly can is great, but sometimes it is just too much.

Last night, on the 2 hour drive home from the fair, I got scared.  Last night when I was trying to sleep (before the two tramadol and three napproxin kicked in… ) I got scared.  The week of watching my kids play together and just being with them all caught up to me and came crashing down.

By dusk (keep in mind I’m nearly at 5 weeks again on my every 4 week infusion) I’m starting to not be able to walk so fast.  By the time we got home, I was kind of not able to walk at all until I spent a good full minute settling into my hips and my knees and my feet.  It has been slowly catching up to me.

On the drive home, I drank a can of pop I found laying on the floor of the truck.  My fingers tingled and didn’t want to have any strength.  They didn’t want to work together at all.  I drank the pop held on two hands because I was terrified I would dump it all over the truck.  They are better this morning, with the rest and the pills… not good… not right… but better.  Good enough to trust in the typing.

And then there is the spot on the left side of my back, between my shoulder blade and my spine about 2 inches from the bottom of my shoulder blade.  When I get tired it’s been hurting like there is an ice pick stuck there.  I probably should let Dr Gota know about that one.

When I got home I took my hand full of “I really need to take the edge off and get a little sleep” pills and laid down on the bed.  When I get really really tired the spot on my back hurts like someone is pushing the ice pick just a little harder… whenever I try to turn over.

I hate to dwell.  I hate to feel tired and hurt and to feel like I’m whining.  I hate knowing that my kids will read this and worry.  I hate not wanting them to know and knowing that I need to write it all out so I know.  I hate feeling like a burden to everyone and having no one to tell.  I hate knowing that my mom now knows and will be worrying.

And so dear reader, if you got this far through all of my bitching and complaining… I’ve talked to you.  And if you’ve gotten this far, you will have gotten to the point of the whole self pitying diatribe.

There is much value in nothing.  Much to be said for sitting in the quiet of the morning (or all freaking day) and doing nothing.  In looking at the newly blooming  hydrangeas in the flower bed (these ones are the palest pink) and enjoying the coffee as it cools in the cup… and in watching the light dance on the spider web as the breeze catches it and it sways softly, lifting the spider and dropping her softly back and lifting her again.

quiet beauty

Today is my little boy’s last day in Ohio.  I’m hoping with all of my heart that we can share this day in the nothing of the house and the porch and the quiet.  A fire in the chiminea, a little dinner on the grill, and time just being together and talking.

With guild I hold this hope, because he has gotten to see not one single rodeo, no grandma or grandpa hugs, nothing that doesn’t cost money to participate in.  But sometimes there is more value in the nothing than in the everything and today it is the nothing that I hope to treasure.

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One response to “The Value in Nothing

  1. Pingback: The chase | Chasing Normal

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