Out of Sickness into Sunshine
Tapping my finger on the phone screen with eyes fixed on the white door, I wait for my doctor. After 30 years with the same primary care, this is a new office for me because nothing has remained the same in my life this year. Nothing. And as I ponder all the changes, I am not alone. All of us have been living in this massive life continuum, a swirling adjustment from all the new do’s and don’ts.
A dangerous virus crept in like the death angel on Passover night, but this one wasn’t looking for the firstborn, it struck willy-nilly picking who would live and wo would die. While markedly old and weak are commonly the target, the young feel the bite as well. All the tales of loss paralyzing us with fear. No one is exempt from taking sides on treading through this stronghold of anxiety. But all of us must decide to step from the pit of this fear and into the sunshine again.
The door opens and a nice young woman pokes her head around the door.
“Mrs. Broadwater, I am Dr. Lott.” With a smile she places her tablet on the streamlined desk. “This is a scheduled follow-up after a recent ER visit. And is everything ok?”
“I am doing much better, thank you. A few weeks ago, I woke up in the middle of the night with a severe case of laryngitis and difficulty breathing. My husband was traveling for work and I was home alone. Fear got the best of me and I ended up going in to get checked out. I am thinking it is nothing more than a case of seasonal allergies. Being new here hasn’t helped my hay fever and this past month I got a cat, Layla. Her dander might be partly to blame.”
“This sounds reasonable and at least it wasn’t something worse.”
She went back to typing up her findings.
The “worse” brings a feeling of dread across my chest. The sheer mentioning you have trouble breathing, a rise in temperature...yah-dah, yah-dah. I am never so happy to reach for my sheet and get out of this office. Dr. Lott is pleasant enough and her practice came highly recommended. But I am determined to put some of this secluded life behind me and go about my business of enjoying the beautiful Spring weekend with Easter dinner in the yard with most of our family in attendance.
As I pull into the driveway of our farm, the new raised beds are showing signs of greening up. The yard is in need of tidying before we set up tables. I rush to change and pick up my pail filled with gloves and gardening fork from the porch table. Each weekend, dirt therapy grounds me. The weeds are already taking a hold around my hydrangeas, invading where they are not wanted. I pull and dig down to release their grip on the soil, working until I have a large pile of greens to put in our compost bin. Our farm truck is full of mulch ready to be loaded onto the wheelbarrow and dumped as soon as the bed is ready. As I head for the truck, my farmer husband immerges with a box of chirping chicks too big for their temporary home. We are hoping the current chickens will welcome the newcomers to the coop. He asks me to join him in rounding up the cows to move them into the new pasture. The two new calves refuse to be pushed. Running this way and that, they bay for their mamas. With patience, the farmer walks back and forth, patiently leading them through the gate. Eventually, they join the others, running to nurse for comfort.
As I walk back to my task, I stick my fork into the mulch. These are the stories we should be focusing on. Stories of family and abundant life, not stories of mass fear and disease. Being outside invigorates me. Our lives are surely moving beyond the adjustments of this past year. And it is time for us to emerge from our hiding with all the life that surrounds us. Walk out into the sunshine, drink it in and be grateful for each new day.
