What Do You See?

I just read Chris's post It's Never Too Late to Lose Weight over at A Deliberate Life. I was pondering a comment and decided to forgo that and just write my own post. Funny how those things work. If you would like to read Chris's post, she is in My Favorite Reads (or something like that) in the sidebar to the left. It is a couple days old now, so click on her and not her most current post.

You might be wondering why I read a weight loss blog. You might not. Chris is uber-inspirational to me. I dig in there and figure out how I can apply all that weight loss stuff to life. The thing is that it isn't that hard. Sometimes it is glaringly obvious. Sometimes not so much. Sometimes, like today, it is on the tip of tongue, and I can't quite get a handle on it.

So, I am going to tell you that dream I had a while back about my dad that I promised you in the Thursday post. In my dream, I was in the middle of a large body of water with no land in sight. I had in my hands something that could save me. But the only thing that I had to activate it was a sharp implement and it was very delicate. There were two canisters and a lot of dangerous territory inside this thing. I heard a voice tell me that if the sharp implement punctured anything other than the canisters (which were difficult to reach) I would die. So, I asked what would happen if I didn't mess with the canisters at all? And the answer was that I would die. So, I took a shot and lost. The voice, which I think was God, told me that I had punctured something other than the canisters and I would die.

I asked if I would drown. The voice said that something from the canisters was going to come out, like foam, and consume all of the air space. I would be encapsulated in it. The strange thing is this: when you KNOW you are going to die, that there is no choice, you don't get upset. At least I didn't. My first thought was that I would be with my dad again. And I said that out loud. Then I turned around and there he was. He was young again like when I was a kid.

He said, "You know we're all gonna die someday."

I laughed. He was right, after all. He then said, "It is all about what you do now. Create all you can while you can." He then paused and said, "Do you want to see what I have been working on?"

"Yes," said I with surprise.

He pulled out this piece of wood, circular in shape, one inch thickness, probably 24 square inches give or take. It was gorgeous. He had cut, sanded, stained, finished, and done the artwork on it himself. Yes, there was artwork on it. There were these delicate flowers burnt into the wood and painted all sorts of colors. And they ran around it in a vine pattern. In the middle there was a saying that I wish I could remember. But the essence was not to take yourself too seriously. Have fun with this thing called life.

How does this relate to Chris's post? Well, I am not having any fun. My head is killing me. I know that it is a head game. I know so many things but I am still spinning my wheels. I have had said to mom that I think I need to experience the frustration of the SSD system up close and personal in order to truly be empathetic to all of the people I want to help when the time comes. My experience has been that you aren't nearly as empathetic until it hits you where you live. So, I grit my teeth and barrel through, but there are days I want to just rip my head right off.

And that is the other thing I have learned. This far into the SSD game you can't change doctors. You can add doctors, but you can't change. If you have doctors that support your claim, you can't change. Even if they aren't doing what you would have them do to get you better, you can't change. You need them. I need to understand what these people are up against and the only way is to experience every rotten thing. That is how I will help change it in the future. You can't change what you don't know. If it was smooth sailing for me, I wouldn't get someone else's rocky road through the system.

For everyone who is still reading this blog, thank you. I am going to do my best to write more often. I need to write more often. My hands are giving me problems. So, we shall see. The doctors are thinking maybe RA. I just had some bloodwork done, so I don't know yet. I just know that my joints hurt. Operating the mouse isn't so bad, but typing hurts. You may be getting those shorter posts after all!


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