Good grief…..

I went for my first allergy shot on Monday. Wasn’t sure what to expect. The nurse gave me three small injections, each one containing a low dose of something I’m allergic to, in this case trees, mold, and shrubs. Once the injections were done, she asked me to sit in the reception area for thirty minutes while my body looked at what they’d put inside it and decided whether or not to react to it. Goody. I sat there playing Mahjong on my IPhone feeling like a hostage with a bomb strapped to her chest waiting to see whether or not it would ignite. I am happy to report, it did not.

People in my immediate circle always have something to contribute when I tell them I’m going through some sort of medical procedure. Often these contributions are based on the worst possible, most horrific, outcome one might expect to occur. One friend told me her neck swelled up alarmingly after an allergy shot and they had to stab her leg with an Epi-pen in order to keep her from suffocating to death. Hmmmm. When I asked the nurse about this possible side effect, she shook her head saying, “very rare”. Oh God. I was hoping more for, “never happens”. I have habit of over achieving with this sort of thing so the nurse’s answer didn’t leave me completely comforted.

Another reason I wish people would keep their horror stories to themselves, is I am the most visual of people. When I was pregnant with my first child a woman, also pregnant, shared a story about a lady in England who carried around a giant growth with hair on it inside her for nine months thinking it was a baby. For the next four months until my daughter was born, I kept imagining what that scenario would look like.

I have a habit of over achieving when it comes to bodily reactions, so as I said, the nurse’s answer didn’t leave me feeling completely comforted. Thankfully, other than being a bit tired for a day or two, I survived. However, I did call in as instructed if any symptoms showed up to advise the nurse I felt wheezy and tired. She asked if I’d been gardening, to which I answered no. Then she asked if I’d taken a walk. I had asked before leaving their office if this was okay, and was told yes as long as not two hours before or two hours after the treatment. When I responded, “Yes, I did go for a walk, but three hours after the shots” she said, “you know, you could have gone into anaphylaxis”. “What”? Perhaps that should be noted in big, bold letters on the instruction sheet before submitting to the procedure? Good Lord. Sometimes the cure really can be worse than the disease.

Thankfully, aside from the horror stories from my less optimistic friends, I balanced things out with friends who are oozing positivity. One friend in particular, encourages me to always look for MBO’s, as she refers to them, an acronym for Most Benevolent Outcomes. She chooses to believe life will produce the most delicious experiences if you believe this to be so, rather than assuming the worst and battening down every day waiting for the next storm to arrive. I like that. I like it a lot. There will always be a storm, because without the dark unsettled clouds how could we appreciate the beauty of a glorious sunrise if there was nothing to compare it with? However, we needn’t always be looking for a storm on the horizon, especially if there isn’t a cloud in the sky.

Last weekend my upbeat friend and I went to Lake Tahoe for lunch. What a beautiful location Lake Tahoe is to find yourself. No matter the season, the lake always seem to say (as my mother might) “I’ve put my face on and I’m ready to receive company”. We ate at a lovely spot overlooking the beach. The company was delightful, the weather nearly perfect, and the view spectacular. Feeling the need for good old red meat, something I haven’t indulged myself in often of late, I ordered a prime rib dip which was seriously out of this world. As I’ve said before many times in my blog, the universe occasionally comes together to create near perfect moments for us to enjoy. This experience was one of them. I came home to find a beautiful Valentine’s bouquet waiting for me on my front step from my son and his family, which was to be the icing on the cake of my day.

This afternoon I am going to a gym I’m interested in joining to speak to a personal trainer. I do not want a repeat of previous gym experiences where I go in, a gym employee looking like a relative of Arnold Schwarzeneggerr instructs me for five minutes on how to use their equipment, and two weeks later I’m back in physical therapy getting rebuilt. Watching my own behavior (I hate working out), I came up with at least twenty reasons early this morning why I needed to cancel this appointment. Even though I know it will be of great benefit to me physically and emotionally, a part of me resists this mightily. There is a little voice in my brain who’s job it is to talk me out of things I don’t want to do, and today he was certainly earning his paycheck. This gym is one of those large gyms, broken up into multiple rooms each set up for various forms of human torture. What interests me in particular, are the three pools located the rear of the building. This is where the water aerobics classes take place. If I must exercise, it makes it bearable if there is water involved. On my first visit last year (notice I still haven’t done one exercise), I noticed everyone was ready for business in their work out gear. All the members were dressed in layered pieces of spandex, matching of course, with coordinated socks and work out shoes with plenty of support. I don’t suppose my leggings will the baby sloths on them and my flip flops would be well received in a high scale gym such as this. I guess a trip to the store will be in the offing if I actually sign the contract.

I’m in such an unsettled phase of my life at the moment, that all the things I normally do to keep me grounded seem to be hovering slightly beyond the tips of my fingers. Writing, drawing, cooking all seem to be just out of reach. One thing I know for certain, this is simply how I am feeling now. As with all things in this life of ours, this will shift and change for the better. As the days unfold, the unsettled will become settled, the choppy seas will give way to calm waters, and winter will relinquish the stage to the players of spring. That is the way of things. So I will settle into my unsettlement (my word not Webster’s) and allow myself to feel whatever this is I am feeling for the time being until it passes. Grief is such an individual and unpredictable phase to push through, often described by those deep in it as a roller coaster. You go up, up, up and then sometimes down, down, down. In the end, you must go through it in order to reach the other side.

I hope this finds you well and happy. I have said aloud the five things I am grateful for today so I began my day on the bright side of things. Happy Thursday!!