Ice in My Glass

“My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with

 some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.”

Maya Angelou

The temperature is perfect on this summer day as I float in the center of the pool.  With a delicious beverage delivered (courtesy of my cabana boy), I enjoy a momentary feeling of utter bliss.  Ken tests the water with those colorful strips; purple indicates the pH is off resulting in a visit to the pool store.   I remain captive on my raft with drink in hand.  He returns to carefully measure & pour the chemicals into the water. I watch, taking note of all that he must do to keep things perfect for my floating.  There is a comfortable quiet between us as I continue gazing in Ken’s direction.  This time noticing the red patches of poison ivy on his arms, the result of pulling weeds maintaining our beautiful flowerbeds. 

It’s a lot for me to take in and I recognize immediately - all his responsibilities to keep me afloat.  It is painful viewing my inability to “carry my load” around here.  I can do very little to unburden him of the many tasks he performs for my comfort & happiness.  All I can do is receive the gift of floating - trying to regain that sense of bliss.

And so, time passes as I recline on my raft in the middle of the pool.  Eyes fixed on Ken who has not stopped working.  The last thing I want is to have another need... but alas, that refreshing drink made especially for my pleasure has gotten warm. Finding the courage I lift my glass (OK, maybe momentarily shaking it) and ask, “could I bother you for some ice?” Ken’s response is priceless, worthy of this story. 

Exhausted, dirty, itchy from poison ivy he smiles, grabs my glass & begins moving toward the house.  Stopping, he turns and in the sincerest way asks, “What’s it like to just show up?” He means no insult or harm.  His words spoken to acknowledge the truth that is often silent between us.  

In our usual way – we laugh.  His laughter coming from a place deep within that would do anything to please me.  And my laughter spills out from an awareness of my dependence on him.  Together we find humor in what could easily destroy us.  All that we are and all that we have is a combination of our efforts to strive, to thrive and to live a blessed life ~ always with a little ice in my glass.

Objects Appear Larger Than They Are

It’s usually the roar of the engine that gets my heart racing and STOPS me from what I’m doing.  Looking up with radar like precision, I track the huge commercial aircraft flying very low overhead.  The sheer size of these planes takes my breath away as they come into view above the trees lining our property.  My family often laughs at me (not appreciating or feeling the same exhilaration) as I freeze midsentence – to begin searching the clear blue skies.  Ken finds it irritating and often yells, “squirrel” depicting how my attention is diverted in an upward direction for those few moments of flight.   

“What is the deal with these low flying planes?” has become normal conversation with friends in the neighborhood.  We are miles from an airport large enough to accommodate Boeing commercial jets.  But for reasons unknown to me air traffic patterns have changed, directing these monsters to begin descent over the area surrounding the ½ acre I call home.

This summer has allowed me hours of mindless entertainment watching the skies populated by massively large, low flying airplanes.  I’m in awe of how fast they travel, often joking about “seeing the color of the pilots’ eyes”!  But like so many other objects that come into view – they often appear larger (and closer) than they really are.

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Anniversaries are customarily acknowledged in some sort of way.  On this given day in July – as my legs dangle off the examination table at my neurologist office – I have much to celebrate (if you can call it that).   10 years ago, I held Kens’ hand as tears fell from my eyes hearing the diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis.  10 years ago, I knew nothing about the stages of loss & acceptance to be endured with the progression of this illness.  And I certainly knew nothing about the faith I would need to call upon.   I just remember those early years navigating new pathways and patterns for my life.   My diagnosis became unavoidably the biggest interruption – very much the “squirrel” in my life.

But I am witness to the healing power of “living by design”. It has been a slow climb bringing me here today, legs dangling in the waiting room.  Ken wanted to be with me for support, but I am feeling strong and confident.  The giant MS beast – not long ago filling me with fear – comes into view smaller than it once appeared.  Although it is undeniably still present, its looming shadow does not conceal all the sunlight.  My doctor visit is over quickly and I receive the thumbs up that all is well.  (Not the usual anniversary gift…. but I’ll take it)

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I rush home to sit in the yard & enjoy the passing of those large jets.  But there is a noticeable change again in the air traffic patterns.  I do not know why but the skies are silent and void of any activity.  Just like that new patterns and pathways are being made.   I’ll miss my pulse racing and the excitement of seeing those large objects – or maybe they really weren’t that large after all.

Collecting Evidence

Peering through a 20/20 lens, everything comes into focus with an unobstructed view.  I am observing what I know to be true.  Love is the only remedy.  Here at my friend’s kitchen table, I am witness to the unassuming power of Love.  And I find myself - Collecting Evidence.

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She contacted me through the Facebook Messenger App.  And just like that, two old friends were reunited in a very millennial sort of way.   She knew about my Multiple Sclerosis, and admitted to reading many stories posted on my blog.  I, in turn knew of her husband’s ALS diagnosis.

But her purpose for reaching out was the offering of a gift.  Her husband had acquired a few mobility devices throughout the years.  I quickly learned that he was no longer able to use the many toys gathered in their garage.  The invitation to visit her home and see if I could benefit from anything was met with an enthusiastic “Yes”.

“Is tomorrow OK?” she asked.  And 24 hours later, I’m ringing her doorbell, eager to embrace my old friend.  She came almost dancing and singing to the door, welcoming me into her home (and life).  Hugs and kisses were quickly exchanged.

Her husband was peacefully sitting at the kitchen table.  The stage of his illness quite advanced making communication difficult (if not impossible).   My friend fills me in about the past few years, bringing me to his present condition.  During the hours spent exchanging “war” stories, my friend continually cared for her husband.  She included him in every detail of our conversation and encouraged him to eat the spoonful of yogurt she put to his lips.  Transferring him to a nearby counter, she lifted him upright (to stand and stretch his muscles).  All this done without stopping or losing her place as we chatted.  Her patience tested but never failing.  Her every response that of tender mercy.  I could not find an ounce of anger or bitterness in her voice.  Instead, I saw only the illumination of love between them.   

BUT THE STORY CONTINUES…as more evidence is collected.

She brings out a tiny scooter explaining its impact on their lives.  They were able to continue traveling and sharing many adventures after learning the fate of his illness.  Every joy was acknowledged and appreciated during those years with the help of this travel scooter.  But now it held no other purpose than to be given away to someone who could benefit from it.  And I was to be that someone.

In the midst of the greatest sorrow imaginable, my friend showered me with kindness in her offering of the scooter.  Where there could be resentment – only love was found.  More evidence collected.

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I zip ahead to catch up to my family and friends walking on the Jones Beach boardwalk on a beautiful Saturday morning. It is with ease that I meet them all, while on the scooter collected from my dear friend. We get in formation while I shout, “strike a silly pose,” with our Walk MS mardi gras beads displayed proudly. After all the love and support exchanged I get home and decide to share my photo on social media, in a very millennial sort of way. And just like that, two old friends reunited as she commented,     "I love that you love your ride!”

In that moment I find that I too am evidence: of struggle and of triumph, defeat and hardship, and the greatest love and relationships conceivable 

                    Love is the only remedy.