Winter snow visited our home and garden this week and I'm happy that it didn't stay for very long because it was really an unexpected event and we weren't prepared for guests.
The mother of one of the patients describes never having asked, when her son was born, "Why? Why was my son born healthy?" But after his illness sets in later, she remarks to the doctors that she hasn't stopped asking, "Why? Why is my son unhealthy? Why?" Then she must watch as her son slowly returns to being catatonic again, unable to communicate at all, after having had him back so briefly.
Chronic illness follows this cycle, and it is for this reason that I garden and grow seeds, finding in their annual return and growth the false confidence that I need, and an additional natural comfort when I need it. Gardening keeps me far away from the Why? questions, and instead, the activity leaves me suspended in a healthy state of awe and speechlessness.
For the last few weeks I've felt alive again, and I've been afraid to note that here on my blog.
One of the reasons why is that I am afraid it won't last for very long. I have lived with many chemical windows both opening and closing much like the patients in the film, though not nearly so dramatically, and I live with the ongoing dread that I will run out of options. For the last few weeks I have been doing much better than I have in about 5 years and it scares me. I must admit too that I have been living, and that means I've not been here so much, and that I've been having fun and I've been enjoying the winter and time spent with my husband.
Taking pictures of the snow at 11pm was just the kind of activity I needed. It filled me with a funny kind of joy and I looked around at the dark homes of our neighbors and wondered why they weren't out there too—just as excited as I was at that hour—and I realized then that my mood had more to do with my most recent "awakening"than anything else. These are often the joyful moments we spend by ourselves and that's alright I suppose, I just hope that all of you remember to have them too.
I just cannot believe that the process is beginning again, since I feel as though I've just woken up a bit myself, and although I am a bit terrified that this new medication may fail me, the garden must grow on and so must I.