Boy, where do I begin?

I'm out of the hospital... three days, now, I think. I have good stretches of time and really, really bad times. I'm weaker now than I've ever been in my life. I'm as thin as I was in my early twenties, during the ballet dancing days. It's weird. I feel diminished in more than just physical presence; I feel half here half the time. (Okay, it could be the morphine and/or any of the other dozen drugs I take almost daily...)

I haven't seen my kids in more than two weeks. Littlest One turned four last Wednesday, the day after I had my second surgery for this hospitalization. I wasn't really lucid that day but I did my best to do a little meditation of recollection of his exisitence in my life, from the days of planning and conception to confirmation that he was a real budding being within me, to his birth, through the days and years of his life so far.

Usually on my boys' birthdays, I get to do that as I watch them bounce around and run here and there and then later as they sleep... the whole day is an occasion to REALLY concentrate on them, honor them, memorize them as they are in this moment, another year along in their lives. But this time I had to fight the effects of drugs and profound pain and use my imagination to do my ritual birthday observation/meditiation.

The lack of his little stout body to hold for a moment before he squirmed back to his busy daily agenda, the absence of his special baby smell that is transforming into little boy smell, the way he didn't even want to talk with me on the phone that day... those losses have caused me a special kind of grief to color this birthday. I only hope that one day he will understand, or that it won't matter, because I'll be THERE for all of the other birthdays and the other important times in his life. I hope that one day I will understand, for that matter.

I haven't reread any of my entries lately, but I remember the ambitions I had for this blog. They had something to do with taking note of moments and methods of simplicity and serenity. I was open to the probability that the topics would range far and wide. It was a different way to Write with a capital W. Now I know I have a readership and I've even appeared on Technorati, which may or may not be a "cool" thing, to be rated as an "authority." I have no idea what that means in that world, but it SOUNDS cool.

I guess my experience is another cautionary tale: please, please DO be careful what you wish for. I wished for my life to be more simple. The circumstances of my life haven't changed much, on the surface. The Obligations still exist. I just don't show up for them anymore. That, for me, has been excruciatingly painful.

I wished that pain away, but then I got so very, very sick that even caring that I wasn't showing up wasn't on my agenda. Whew. The Lessons from this Illness Thing just don't stop. And I can't keep up. I hardly can write in my own journal, much less come up with pithy lessons and glowing insights to "publish."

A few weeks ago I went to a party to see some old friends. I hobbled in with my walker and was ushered to a comfortable chair and I had about an hour of good talking before I faded and had to hobble out again. In discussing this whole sickness thing, a friend suggested that some of the best use of the experience would be to distill what I'm learning, put it into words and share it with my friends, as well as reflect on ways to improve my own life with the strange silver linings that appear even in the dire absurdity of this MESS.

This is a guy whose suggestions carry some authority with me--read his blog (http://agathon-sbh.blogspot.com/) and you'll see why. It would be groovy if I could come up with some nuggets of wisdom or simple moments of genuine observation and reporting like those on his blog and those of his wife (start with http://mamaoknits.blogspot.com/)...

But I'm not warmed up enough to reach articulation yet. The writer in me knows that I have to keep writing a bunch of drivel to get to the good stuff. Normally I wouldn't inflict that on ANY readership. But this time I'm going to say to hell with all that and just type away and get my writing fix and see what comes of it.

So with that introduction, I'm exhausted. Ha. Figures. More later, eh?