I love our little bungalow, I truly do, though sometimes you’d be hard pressed to tell, the way I neglect it. But I’ve resolved to do better, and marrying action to resolution, I armed myself with a container of cement and a trowel, and joined The Mister to patch up the cracks in the basement floor. This became our morning ritual after breakfast most mornings for about a week. I wanted to give the cement a chance to dry and the fumes dissipate before we had to close the basement windows with the coming of the colder air, so there was some urgency attached to our efforts.
In other words, we worked HARD!
Neither of us has ever done this kind of work before, and after our first go at it, we were both plum tuckered out. As the week progressed, we got faster and more competent, but there wasn’t a morning my legs weren’t trembling from the exertion. But we “got ‘er done” as The Mister is fond of saying, and a pretty fair job it is too, one day before we had to close the windows!
Heartened by this success, I tackled my office next, and you can read about that in my previous post.
Finally, I decided to wreak God’s own vengeance on the bedroom closet which hasn’t been thoroughly cleaned since nineteen-hundred-and-I’m-embarrassed-to-tell-ya. Oh, the treasures I found! A gorgeous pashmina from my eldest sister I thought I’d lost, scarves, a vest, and oh yeah, a couple of tote bags. How does one lose not one, but two tote bags in a closet that size, you ask?
It’s a gift you’re born with.
Although I am delighted with the results of my efforts, my allergies were not at all thrilled with the amount of dust that went up my little button nose. And for some strange reason, I did not sleep well, in spite of my exhaustion, for four nights in a row…which for me, is just asking for trouble.
Early Wednesday morning I woke up with a sore throat. By Thursday, my sinuses were blocked, and Friday saw me coughing and sneezing, and then the fatigue hit me like a truck. Just taking a shower used up all my energy and I alternated between the TV room sofa and the bed. I haven’t been this sick in ages.
“I hate it when you’re ill and can’t come to church with me,” The Mister said Sunday morning.
I felt all warm and lovey and replied, “Aw! Really?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Everyone’s gonna ask me, one at a time, ‘Where’s Penny-Anne? Where’s Penny-Anne?’ I’ll spend the whole time repeating myself.”
“Oh you poor thing,” I said, feeling somewhat less warm and a whole lot less lovey. “How you do suffer.”
“I know, eh? Maybe I should bring a sign that says ‘She’s home with a cold.’ and I can just hold it up when they ask.”
“Better yet, bring a sign that says, ‘She’s in Rio with Eduardo’. That should liven things up at the ole kirk!”
He decided he’d rather spend the whole time repeating himself.
The fatigue has made it impossible for me to work or exercise, so I’ve been enjoying more time for reading, and for wondering what the heck am I doing sick? Well OK, I overextended myself just a tad with all the cleaning and such…OK, maybe more than just a tad, but why couldn’t I just shake it off, bounce back, amaze the medical community with the speed of my recovery? Most of the symptoms have subsided, but the fatigue is still a lingering, undeniable presence, and honey, I got things I wanna do!
Lately, I’ve been introduced to Lissa Rankin, MD, through her book Mind Over Medicine: Scientific Proof That You Can Heal Yourself. I’m on my second time through her book and I subscribe to her web site www.lissarankin.com where she discusses spirituality, medicine and healing. Everyday she sends me a little message from what she calls my “Inner Pilot Light.” Others might call it my highest self, or inner wisdom, or spirit. Here’s the message I received when my illness was at its worst:
Dearest Penny-Anne Beaudoin, when was the last time you asked yourself what you needed? I see you running on empty all the time pushing the last vestiges of your energy to the very limits before you collapse into a coma of sleep only to do the very same thing the next day. The message for you today is simply this: self-care. You have to take time to replenish the stores of your life force. So ask yourself “What do I need today that would be restful and add abundance to my spirit?”
And it was signed, Conspiring to make it happen, Your Inner Pilot Light.
Well, draw me a picture why dontcha?
I need to rest. I need to tweak my diet to make it more nutritious with a daily green smoothie and some superfoods. I need to rest. I need to put all deadlines and commitments (most of which are self-inflicted) AFTER my commitment to my health. I need to rest. I need to stop worrying about finishing up The Magdalene Poems. I need to learn to pace myself. And, oh yeah, I need to rest. That’s my prescription. And I intend to follow it.
I also came across this little gem in Florence Scovel Shinn’s The Magic Path of Intuition. It’s a story of getting her watch repaired only to discover it lost ten minutes every day. She accidentally dropped it on her hardwood floor, picked it up, put it on, and lo and behold, it kept perfect time from then on. To quote, “In falling it had become regulated. So if you have a bump of any kind, know you are being regulated, and you’ll come out of it much improved.” Ah, so that’s what’s going on!
Next morning at the breakfast table I told The Mister, “I’m being regulated.”
He nodded sagely. “It’s like I keep telling ya, Missus,” he said, poking the air with his fork for emphasis, “fiber is our friend.”
“Oh, no, that’s not what…I was speaking metaphor…I mean, I just read…well, you know, you’re right. Can’t argue with that. I really should listen to you more often.”
He nodded again and winked.
“It could only help,” he said.
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