Facing A New Stage In Life

Somewhere along life’s path of the last few years I found I have a number of cervical spine issues.  I was initially told I would be a very poor candidate for neck surgery; that the result would be limited mobility afterwards. A recent check up with the doctor found I now also have a number of problems in my lower spine.  I was told I am slowly, over time, becoming paralyzed.  I asked about a time frame, but was told there is no way to tell.  So, it is now suggested that I meet with a surgeon in order to make an informed decision regarding surgery; that perhaps limited mobility might be preferable to a loss of strength and stamina.  Of course, I am hoping the surgeon will see things differently.  In the meantime, I have to decide what to do about continuing to work, how to spend my time and energy, etc. I am doing just fine.  However, about two weeks ago I could not go the hospital for my volunteering shift.  And I wanted to go see my babies!  That’s when discouragement set in.  So, I had to give myself a pep talk, which was very helpful and just what I needed.  The following somewhat summarizes my thoughts and is an attempt to see where I am and how life might change for me.

Allan and I were once at the beach late in the afternoon, during the off season, just enjoying a walk.  We lost track of time and failed to pay attention to how quickly the sun was setting.  It seemed that all of a sudden it was difficult to see where the beach ended and the ocean began.  The access path appeared hidden to us; the entire beach and ocean seamless to our eyes.  Given that it was the Fall of the year, there weren’t any property owners in residence who were turning on house lights.  Scary!

I awoke this morning thinking of that experience.  Within a few minutes I got a mental picture of the ocean and beach as reflective of exactly where I am in life.  I see myself caught in a rip current, one that was unpredictable to me.  I saw none of the signs.  There didn’t appear to be any foam on the waves.  I didn’t see a strip of the ocean water that was different in color from the surrounding waters; nothing.  I just didn’t see it coming.    

So, I am currently swimming parallel to the shore, as I should; all the while assessing the situation in order to know when I might begin to swim towards shore.  The rip current all of a sudden seems too wide and I am getting tired.

The sounds of the ocean, the surf, the birds overhead, the swaying of the beach grass on the various mounds; all of them seem to be a chorus singing to me to stop struggling, to accept the tide; to let it take me where it will.  As if that harmony were not enough, I see that twilight is on the horizon.  This foreshadowing is frustrating and I am trying to figure out how to change the story; how to get back to the coast. The powerful wave of discouragement washes over me.  That’s when I realize my physical struggle is not as dangerous as the mental and emotional battle I might be facing.  

So, I fight the urge to abandon hope.  I need and want to see clearly what I must do when I reach the shoreline.  I must first of all accept that my life won’t be like getting to walk the firm ground near water’s edge, at least not very often.  It will more often probably be more comparable to plodding my way through the deepest part of the sand.  That walk is so much more tiring and so much slower, but it is walking nonetheless. 

As I trudge my way I will have to search the sand underneath my feet for shells that I would previously have passed over as I was walking with energy and stamina.  I will have to be looking for shells that are broken, but are still beautiful and special; shells that can make a handful of gathered shells more lovely and interesting.  I will need to think about how I can make my handful as lovely and pleasing as possible.   

   

I will have to accept that I am walking the beach at dusk; not sunrise.  And sometimes I might find myself feeling lost and unsettled just as Allan and I did that late afternoon.  I will have to wait until someone reaches out and helps me find my way.  Or I will have to wait until a light appears to show me the way.  I will have to stay focused on the fact that I can still walk somewhere on the beach.  There is still something of beauty to appreciate and enjoy.  And maybe most importantly of all, I will have to remember that those of us who are higher up on the beach can wave and encourage loved ones who are still totally immersed in the water or running with strength along its edge.   Come to think of it, further up on the beach is where the lifeguard sits, isn’t it?