Occasionally, I have a couple minutes where almost nothing hurts. Physically, I mean. I have no great expectations of this as an emotional state. Though, I sometimes get ten minutes of being at peace with the world. If I’m lucky and the schedule allows, I can catch a nap wave, a feat so pleasurable it eclipses my imagined experience of real surfing. If I was a praying person, I’d pray for more of this. But that ship has sailed.
When I was 23, I started counseling with Barbara. She asked me what my goals were. I said, “I want to be pain free.” Bless Barbara, she didn’t burst out laughing. Nor did she say, “I’m sorry, Joceile, there’s no such thing.” They probably teach you in therapist school to be more circumspect.
Over the years, I’ve reflected on the impossibility of that goal and my youthful misunderstanding of what life is. It didn’t take very long in my work with Barbara to find ever more concentric circles of pain, emotional and physical. I kept thinking, “Wait! I don’t remember signing up for this.”
No one asks like some sick carnival barker, “Hey, you can have searing emotional pain or terminal cancer. Which would you prefer?”
“Is there maybe a door number three?” I’m sure I’m on the wrong game show.
Everyone who’s managed to get to the ripe old age of 64 knows there’s no such thing as a pain free life. Aging changes our imaginings. I look at strangers older than I struggling to get around, walking, shuffling, or being pushed in wheeled conveyances, and I know they were once vibrant, light stepping young people. I know that young person is still in there. I know I need to remember this and not believe they are as they appear. If I’m lucky one day, it will be my turn for my body to be merely a shell holding my yearning heart and lightness of spirit. How will I look to others?
My next door neighbor is dying of cancer at 84. Her body has been failing her for a couple years. Penny loved golfing. She took it up later in life. She was competitive. When she broke her leg, her most frequent comment was, “I want to be able to golf.” Her sharpness of mind is still there, but her body is skin and bones. She probably weighs 70 pounds. She’s still more than I can lift.
Penny likes angels. We put battery operated candles in our window for her. She has an angel light in her window. We check it repeatedly, day and night. Her hospital bed is along the living room window looking out at the lake. We can see that her big TV is on. She can’t take care of herself or get out of bed without help. Three of her four sons live locally. Between them, a daughter-in-law, grandchildren, and paid home help, she’s being cared for. Ronnie and I have done a shift.
Penny is a crusty old broad. When we moved next door nine years ago, she announced she was the “Bitch on the Block.” It’s all for show unless you cross her. She’s as tender hearted as they come. I love her. I can’t make her well. I have to live with the pain her dying brings.
Penny’s still pissed off at the neighbor who built our house. She was a poor single mother of four boys always in need of money. Gratzer built the roof eaves of his house over Penny’s property by a foot. Gratzer was a grumpy guy. Penny pointed out his error and said if he paid her a thousand bucks she’d forget about it. Gratzer was having none of it. He took his circular saw and cut a foot off his roof. I’ll never look at that roofline without remembering it. Penny says she just wanted the money. She can still get animated about it over forty years later.
I don’t want to say goodbye to Penny. I don’t want her to suffer. I don’t want a new neighbor. Life doesn’t give a shit about what I want. It just happens. The whole pain thing revolves, spinning like our planet. If I can sneak a few minutes of almost nothing hurting, I’ll take it. It doesn’t last. It’s a blessing when I catch the wave before the next wipe out.
If there was magic, I’d use it. Just like all the other times I’ve wanted it. The magic of life is that there’s any life at all. Blink and it’s gone. I watch it carefully. I want to soak in all I can. Pain or no pain, it’s the spark that keeps the world evolving. Not being in charge, I get to enjoy the show while I’m in it.
I love you, Penny. I’ll keep you close to my heart…always.
Joceile
1.8.22
[Picture of an ominous looking big white fluffy cloud reflected in the lake.]
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