Everything happened so quickly that the woman felt she was dreaming. Once she was safely settled into the ambulance, realization came upon her and she began to cry. The ambulance personnel spoke to her softly and assuredly, as they started an IV in her arm.
Gently and with pure concern, the ambulance crew got her into an Emergency Room unit, constantly assuring the woman that she was doing great. They asked her questions such as: Do you know today’s date? Who is our current president? And what is the weather like today?
With fear, she answered everything correctly. In no time, the doctor arrived and she was taken from the emergency room to a patient room, where she lost a bit of consciousness for nearly an hour. The capable staff stood smiling encouragingly as the doctor advised her that she was experiencing sepsis along with an extremely serious urinary tract infection.
From that moment on, and to this very day, she experiences pain in both legs from severe osteoarthritis, complete with crackling that sometimes goes hand in hand with bone-on-bone arthritis. Years ago, the woman went through radiation and chemotherapy for rectal cancer and that treatment process left her with many additional woes. The woman’s family surrounded her with love and hope. Her friends sent cards, flowers and notes filled with concern and devotion.
The woman appreciates the people in her life more than she can say. At the end of the day, however, this woman is often drained from all of the “thank yous” and the “I am feeling greats” she feels obliged to say. But deep inside, she has so much more she wants to say. So much she needs to say.
Every once in a while, you can catch her sitting on her front lawn; sunglasses on and music quietly soothing her broken heart. Often, in the quiet night, you can hear her cursing all illnesses, not just hers. She cringes when she allows herself the joy of being outside and someone recognizes her. The last thing she needs is to be fawned over, rubbed on the shoulder, or awkwardly hugged by someone who has never before given her the time of day.
Is she bitter? Yes. Does she feel sorry for herself and the woman she once was? Yes.
This woman I describe is me. The bumpy road of life has made its mark, dear friends. There are days I literally battle with this new version of me just to get out of bed and step into the world. If it were not for those who love me, I am sure I would wander to a place from which I could never return. My husband, my sister, my friends — they are the brave characters in this Northern Yarn.
And so, how does one react when monumental, unwanted changes march right through and leave bitterness and emptiness in their wake? I asked myself this question over and over again while shaking my fist at the sky above, demanding an answer. Though an explanation has yet to be offered, there are countless blessings that have been given to me throughout the turmoil; it just took me a while to recognize and appreciate them.
I watched my husband and his brother diligently working on a ramp to put on the front of our house so that I can go outside from the front door to my car safely. I cried tears of joy when I got my driver’s license renewed with no problem. (I aced the vision test.) I watched my husband work out in our backyard, creating a lovely garden and a burn pit, great for making S’mores and red hot dogs. With a cabana, picnic tables and chairs, it is an oasis created for all to enjoy.
Our beautiful fur babies are buried in that same area, complete with personalized grave markers.
I have two wheelchairs; one electric and the other manual. There is literally no place I cannot go, even the botanical gardens in Boothbay Harbor.
We have new kitchen countertops that are much easier for me to work on, as well. As I am sure you know by now, there is nothing I go without, and there are many who are not as fortunate.
I still love to read, to write Northern Yarns, watch movies, dine out, park on a wooded road and let the quiet soothe me, purchase new clothing and cook. (I am still working on the cooking part.) I could shop anywhere, including online, and you would be surprised at how many people notice the shoes you are wearing when you are in a wheelchair. I still laugh with my sister until we are both in tears — those glorious, magical tears that are naturally good medicine.
This is me now, my friends. I have changed, of course. This journey continues on, and it will be my pleasure if you experience it with me.
Belinda Wilcox Hersey lives in Caribou with her husband, Kent. You may email her at belindahersy@gmail.com.
