Monthly Archives: November 2023

I had a dream…

I went to church on Sunday. I gave our interim minister a holy water hanging made of hand painted porcelain from Portugal. I gave an origional watercolor from a street artist depicting the city with the bridge, made by the same designer of the Golden Gate bridge to one of my clients. I gave a tile drawing kit to his wife. I gave the requested magnets and a bonus keychain with my tile design on it to another of my friends. I returned the book on Paris to my Auntie.

The speaking pastor was from the UUA and he was really good. I enjoyed his sermon immensely.

I got to hug and be hugged. I got to love and feel loved. Emotionally and spiritually I was doing great. There was a fundraising lunch after the service to benefit Fruit for Kids that makes sure children in our area schools get healthy choices. I enjoyed a soup (one of the few things I can eat right now) and had an Always Beautiful moment with the maker of that soup.

After everything was done, I wasn’t feeling too well so I went home to take a nap before I was supposed to head over to my Beastie Diane’s house. Then things went amiss.

I was in my shower enjoying the hot water when I started to feel ill. I turned my head and got sick into the water. I turned back and realized I was wet and that I wasn’t actually in the shower. I’d been sick all over my pillowcase and sweater. Dang it.

I texted Diane to see what time I could come over but she was having a bad day and asked to change it. Well crap. I called another friend who offered their washer and dryer. Excellent. I went over, watched a show called Reservation Dogs (It’s an FX show and is really funny and a good watch.) Laundry done, I headed home with my little dog in tow.

Later that night, Diane messaged me that she couldn’t find her bunny anywhere. She was more distraught and crying. I dropped what I was doing and headed to her house. I couldn’t find that bunny anywhere in the house. I searched high and low but to no avail. I went outside and checked under the first deck, no dice. I climbed as far as I could under the second deck and there he was just minding his bunny business.

After several attempts to corral him, offerings of apples, carrots, and celery, he still wouldn’t budge. A few pokes by a stick got him running the wrong way. As I crawled out from under the deck, I spotted him running up the hill towards the vast back yard. I hollered and pointed him out. Diane went after him trying to catch him, but he freaked out and took off running.

I climbed up the stairs on the other side of the yard and cooed to him, speaking gently in a quiet manner. He came over to where I was and waited for me to pick him up. Man, I snuggled the crap out of Bunbun. He seemed relieved.

Bunny safely inside his room (She has no idea how he got out of the house, I suspect he learned the doggie door), I hugged her goodbye and went home at about 11 and by 11:30 I was asleep.

I was standing on the edge of a southwestern canyon. I could see the blue skies above me and the red and gold earth below my feet. The sun was shining, inviting me to spread my wings and fly. The wind enticed me to the edge. I looked down and knew with all my heart I was going to experience a euphoria I’d never learned. I jumped…

I landed on my shoulder and hit my poor head on the floor of my closet. My bed showed no evidence of a struggle. It looked like I’d pulled back the blankets neat as you please. I must have yelled out because Matthew, my nephew/son was at my bedroom door pretty quickly asking if I was alright. After I caught my breath, I affirmed my being okay and embarrassed returned to bed.

Just before 9AM I woke up. I knew I was going to be late for the breakfast date I’d made, so I quickly texted and got dressed. I took care of my morning routine and headed out the door. By the time I got to where I was going, I was having a hard time lifting my arm very far and if I tried lifting anything, it was popping up to a 5. I ignored it, I mean, I was trying to fly for Pete’s sake.

Plans made to get with my doctor and decide further care, it occurred to me that I wasn’t feeling well…again. I kept my next appointment but confessed I wasn’t up to par. Another adjustment and I agreed to head to the ER.

I went home to lay down for a bit before going. I was tired and didn’t feel like moving. My bestie Jen came over and hounded me until I got out of bed. We headed to downtown Knoxville.

As I sat waiting for an x-ray, a man came and sat next to me while his wife was getting her x-ray done. She’d broken her spine, was clausterphobic and they had to put a brace on her. As he told me what she was going through, I asked him how he was doing. He seemed surprised. He was struggling with emotions. I asked if I could do anything to help ease his worries. He asked me to pray for his wife. I prayed for both of them. He reached over and squeezed my hand. He thanked me as he left with his wife. Pictures of my own were taken.

Off to the CT to get imaging done on my face. As I waited for my turn, a young man, late teens maybe, was sitting to my left. He was pleasant and chatty. He told me he had nothing to eat but ritz crackers for three days and he couldn’t keep those down for long. He was hooked up to saline and some other bag that I couldn’t read.

“I’m here with my mom and dad,” He told me. “I’m really scared it’s something bad.”

“What if it is?” I asked him.

“I just don’t want more needles and I don’t want to make my mom and dad worry.” he answered. “If it’s bad, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“My friend Miss Marge lived to be 101 years old. She said the secret to a long life was to keep moving, even if it’s a sidestep. If it’s bad, you can only move through it no matter the outcome. I can’t promise you you’ll be okay, but I can promise you that the fact your parents are out there waiting to hear word of you shows great devotion. You are clearly loved.”

He smiled at me. A look of accepted relief washed over his face. “Yeah, I am. Thanks. Are you okay?”

“You should see the other guy!” I quipped. We laughed at my foolishness. The attendant called his name.

“Thanks for talking with me.” He stated as he pulled the IV tree with him.

“Any time.”

The two conversations I had with these people felt so deep and real. Vulnerable in a bad situation but comforting in our company together. It was more satisfying than going to church (some Sundays) in my spirit. I felt like a conduit, not the one actually speaking.

HOURS LATER:

A doctor finally came in to see me, made a plan, then left quickly. In his defense, there were so many people there. A phone conversation I overheard was by a woman who had gone to the hospital in Oak Ridge (I absolutely refuse to go there because they tend to not take good care of people). That hospital told her she had a herniated disc but she didn’t think it was right. It turns out she fractured her spine in two places and was going in for surgery. Yeah, that’s why I was where I was an not in my hometown hospital.

A plastic surgeon came in to set my nose and remove my stitches from my lip. The lip was a cake walk. Snip and done. The nose, on the other hand, good Dude in a handbasket.

They had to inject numbing into my nose, the floor of my nasal cavity, and up the sides of my schnozz. “Be still,” He told me. “You’re going to feel a little pinch.” Pinch my ass!! He didn’t but JEEHOSEPHATS! I wish to Dude he’d had said: This is going to hurt quite a bit, but you need to stay as still as possible.

I nearly came up swinging when the first needle went into my face. By the time the third one was being placed in the floor of my left nostril, I was weeping and shaking as if I were in a Michigan winter with no coat on. How I kept my head still, I don’t know, but the rest of me looked like a beached fish flailing about while the doctor’s reassured me I was doing fine.

They put a metal tool up my nose and pushed until I heard a pop in my face. Although mostly numb, it was by far not my favorite moment since I first injured my face. They put a splint up my nose to hold the septum straight and put a brace on the outside of my nose. It could have been worse. I moved through it and abided the best I could considering.

My nose is now set and quite lovingly braced. (insert eyeroll here). They tidied up and left with instructions of a soft food diet, don’t lay on my back unless propped up, and to see the plastic surgeon in 7 days. I wish I felt more warmth towards them doing their job, but I could barely see through my tears.

The first doctor came back in and said although I had no breaks in the bones of my shoulder and hadn’t dislocated it, there was obviously some damage. He thinks I did some soft tissue damage and possibly messed up the rotator cuff again. Great.

I look like I was in a doozy of a fight, but despite all the shenanigans and the ungodly amount of time spent in the ER, I have referrals to the doctors I need to see, financial aid papers to fill out, and now the healing begins in earnest.

How can you thank someone who would sit with you while you endured the ups and downs of medical issues? How can I show my gratitude for being so loved? What can I give that will demonstrate the level of trust and devotion I have for someone who would do that for me?

Jen, if you’re reading this, know that you have my heart, my devotion, my love, and my loyalty because you have given it so willingly, openly, and honestly to me. I know you have my back no matter what. It’s surprising to be able to call you up and know that no matter what, you’re there. I hope I don’t have to ever watch you suffer as you have me, but if you ask (and probably even if you don’t), you have my truest devotion. Thank you for being you so well, so honestly, and so truly.

For the rest of you, may peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!

Reflections, on Travel Insurance

My apologies for leaving you in the lurch. It’s taken me a bit of time to get settled back into my real life.

I’ve been battling the insurance company that I bought my trip insurance from because they’re refusing to cover the repairs on my face even though I was injured on my trip. Turns out that the moment I set foot on American soil, my insurance was gone. I still need to have my nose set, my teeth fixed, and I’m uncertain about the break under my left eye. But, according to them, I’m on my own.

I thought I was being responsible. I thought I was making a good choice. I thought I was protecting myself in the event that something happened. I never expected to have to use it. I bought the policy after much deliberation, research, and conversations with fellow travelers. Be prepared and all that.

What they failed to mention is that if you’re injured on your trip, you have to get it taken care of right then and there. No waiting until you get home even if that’s what the doctor says because of the recovery time. You have to give up a part of your trip to get it taken care of when it happens. AND you pay out of pocket up front which they will reimburse you for afterwards. I haven’t tested that theory yet, but I’m going to guess by the way I’ve already been treated that it’s going to be a million hoops to jump through to get that back in my pocket.

I felt and feel betrayed, disgusted, and ripped off. I thought I’d be taken care of. I thought I was protected. I was but am not now.

Would I tell someone else to buy trip insurance? No I would not. It’s a pretty good scam. You’d be better off putting that money into savings in the event, Dude forgive, you need it. I would not do that again because the peace of mind I had is now a chunk out of my pocketbook. It’s not worth it.

In case you’re wondering, I bought the policy through AAA. Allianz Assistance USA is where the policy came from. They’ll gladly take your money but if you need follow up care, you’re on your own. I wouldn’t trust Allianz ever again. AAA even pled my case to them because my agent was astounded at their refusal. She didn’t get anywhere either.

May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved (but not by Allianz).

Day Fourty-Nine, Less than 24 hours

I woke up early this morning. I woke Matt up, made us a cup of coffee. We chatted about the day to come. It felt good to have company in my home. To have someone to talk about what I’ve experienced, what they’re experiencing without expectation or attempts to fix things has been deeply satisfying.

Maybe it’s just because I haven’t been able to really talk with many people over the last six weeks that I feel this way. When I was with people I love, it was like having a witness to my life and I to theirs. It was a bonding that was brought about by shared experiences which made those memories sensory markers. And yet, as I sat with him this morning, it was good. He left for work and I was ready for the day.

Jen came over and collected the goodies I brought back for her. It tickled her pink to see what I’d brought for her. Farts! I forgot to take pictures of what I already gave away! I gave her a tile created by Ana which had a beautifully painted fish raised up on it. She had helped me paint my fish project so it was meaningful on many levels. I gave her a bright blue towel with colorful sardines on it. I also gave her a tree of life necklace on a cork “string”. I sent her home with a white Buddha statue for her husband Todd that I got in France. Hers came from Portugal.

A few of the things I brought back got broken in transit. I was able to repair them with gorilla glue. They aren’t as pretty as they were, but they look okay now.

I gave my neighbor Miss Ruth who took care of my home, cat, and watched over my son while I was gone, a spoon rest with the legendary Portuguese cock on it. I also gave her a royal blue towel with the cock on it and a spatula with colorful sardines on it. Finally, I finished it off with a chestnut that I brought back from France. I got her what I did because around the holidays she brings over large plates of food for me and typically the leftovers that Mr. Tony won’t eat. She spoils me with gifts on the holidays and the chicken pillow she gave me for Christmas went with me on my travels.

Miss Sharon came over next. I gave her a rock and a chestnut. She told me how glad she was to see me and it felt like home again.

I went to the doctor who scolded me about my diet. I told him how I walked everywhere when I was in France. He said, “It looks like you ate everywhere too.” I didn’t gain or lose anything while over there but my pants are fitting better. I don’t have to stress the seams of my pants any more. I have to return to get another scan of my face and mandible per his request. It’s going to take some work to get it down but it will happen.

I took deep delight when I was brought into the exam room and there was my painting hanging on the wall. Holy crap! I was jazzed. I also came up with a few other ideas. I can’t pay them with money because I don’t have it, but I have plenty of talent so I’ll keep giving them the art I create to make the exam rooms come to life instead of being so danged beige.

Life isn’t always what we hoped for or expected, but that I get to learn and enjoy what I have is truly a gift.

As for the title, I haven’t been home 24 hours before I locked myself out of the house and had to be rescued. Oh for Pete’s sake! All is good. Life is good. I’m happy, warm, and loved. It can’t get much better, can it? I bet I’m wrong.

May peace find you wherever you are or go. You are loved.

Day Fourty-Eight, To Home and Back

I had so much trouble going to sleep last night. I was experiencing so many different emotions. From anxiety, to excitement, all the way to sadness and a reminder that being in the moment is necessary.

I woke up at 7AM (3AM Tennessee time), loaded my bags onto the dock and made my last trip up to the Galp station for a double espresso and a croissant. The driver couldn’t find me and he didn’t speak any English. The woman with the beautifully wild hair was kind enough to translate and the driver found me.

I loaded up the trunk and we headed to the airport. We could barely communicate but we used the translator and laughed hysterically at the ridiculous translation. He dropped me off and I put my luggage on a buggy. I stood outside the airport, reluctant to enter.

I was unsure of what to do. I mean, get on the plane and fly home, obviously, but I didn’t want to give up the time that I’d spent in a different world. I finally relented and stepped into the airport.

The process wasn’t confusing, really. Some dude grabbed my cart and asked me where I was going. A policeman shook his head no and pointed at the dude. I thanked him and took my buggy to the check in point. I had two bags to check and a backpack that I picked up as my carryon. But…you can’t put a computer through in your checked bags so I had to buy another bag to store my electronics. For the record, spend the money on good luggage. Do not skimp or you’ll end up with flat tires that don’t roll.

Bags checked, carry on over my shoulder and I had to walk to the very last gate at the other end of the airport. Abuh. Good for the butt, I thought. I purchased a soda and a snack while I waited the two hours for the flight. Security was pretty easy to get through. I didn’t even have to take off my shoes.

Boarding the plane was easy too. They scanned the boarding pass and checked my passport.

The seats sort of looked like lawn chairs and were about as comfortable. Buckled in and ready to fly, I was dizzy and nauseous. I fought with it the entire flight. If I lean forward, my lip stings and my head gets light. I know, don’t lean forward. No matter which position I sat in, I just couldn’t get comfortable.

Arrival in Philly was different. Customs, claims, declarations, confusion. I didn’t feel competent but I made it through. By the time I reached the gate I was so dizzy. I asked the customer service for an ice pack for my face. They were so accomodating and nice. Thank you American Airlines.

The connecting flight had way better seats and far more legroom. I listened to music since the wi-fi wouldn’t connect and jammed out to my favorite songs. The flight was only two hours, but it was totally comfortable.

Arrival in Knoxville was coming home in such a different way. My friend Diane said I’d be changed by my travels. She said I’d never be the same. I understand now. I get it. I am different. But, as I’ve described before, home is where I am. Here, in my home, I can be all of me, express my ideas, share in stories, be a part of life.

I was more of an observer, and explorer of cultures. I saw things I only dreamed about. I tasted some phenomenal foods from all different culinary experts. I stayed in a quiet apartment. I stayed in a tiny condo. I lived on a boat. I wouldn’t trade anything for what I’ve been through.

I’m dizzy, nauseous, and I need to sleep in my own bed. My pup and kitty curled up next to me, my son sleeping on his cot in the livingroom. Life is good.

May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved. Welcome home.