"But the big, bad world doesn’t owe you a thing. Get over it. Get over it." The Eagles

THE JOURNEY

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save. 

 

Mary Oliver 

I want to thank Glenda for that poem. It really helps.

Let me start by taking several steps down from whatever virtual pedestal some may imagine me posing on. I am not there.

As you who follow my blog more closely could probably tell, I had not been in much of a literary mood for the last few days. 

Maybe the stomach pains are wearing me thin, maybe my fatigue has drained my creative juices, maybe my forced patience with the unusual slowness of the whole engraftment process is throwing off my normal frenetic rhythms.  My wife says I been moping. I know she's right. Not exactly exemplary or inspirational behavior.

I write this not to invite you to my pity party, or worse yet, to have you suggest I get over it, but just to let you know that all of us have darker days. I think it is healthy to be in touch with your pain and carry it forward. As John Lennon said  " Does you no harm to feel your own pain." The important part for me is to carry forward. Don't stop and dwell on the negative. Accept it and move on. Keep on truckin. My family doesn't tolerate stuckness. That's a good thing. 

The other puzzle piece has to do with widening and lengthening my perspective. Then all of this falls into place.

The dogs are back home. The vet and my doc think the risks are tiny. Doesn't stop me from reading half a dozen articles. For example: Such methicillin-resistant S. intermedius (MRSI) strains, although extremely rare, have now been isolated from dogs and the transfer of antibiotic-resistant S. intermedius strains from dogs suffering deep pyoderma to 46% (6/13) of their owners has been demonstrated (Gortel et al., 1999; Kania et al., 2004; Guardabassi et al., 2004 My only contact with them is to hear them bark.

My daughter, her boyfriend and I (masked of course) walked on the beach at sunset. He's never been to the west coast and never seen the sun set over the palm trees along the Pacific. And he has never eaten at In & Out so my daughter is taking him there for a fancy dinner. Double- double I bet. California is a special place. And obviously we are not a family of vegans. Though we can't share meals, we can visit. Not ideal, but workable.  We make it work. That too is a good thing.