As teenagers, R&J were agile enough to climb up balconies, stay up late and get around town a whole lot easier than if they'd been, in their 60's living in an efficiency room and sharing a car.
Balcony climbing agility is something my Romeo lacks. Yesterday was proof.
Last week I spent the morning in the ER making sure I was not having a heart attack. Today, Sweetie drove himself (as I was on duty with the sleeping Luther) to the same emergency room even though he was suffering from a possible fracture of his femur. I think I mentioned in a previous post that he took a slight tumble while sitting on one of the garage sale items. He knew immediately he had strained something. The pain increased daily. Last night he was in what I would call extremis. Unbeknownst to Juliet who fell asleep listening to his manly whimpering, what little sleep Romeo managed was on the floor with his legs propped up on a chair.
By 6am wake up my man was really hurting. Fear that I had kind of kept at bay for 24 hours lunged at my fragile countenance like a 3 headed dragon. What about the VA? Who would pay? How can you drive? What about Dad? What would Juliet do? It was a co-dependent's worse nightmare - who do I save, my father or my true love? Where was Friar Tuck when I needed him?
Cutting to the chase, it turned out that the leg was not broken but a tendon was pulled. Romeo was given prescriptions for serious pain medication and muscle relaxants. When I called later in the day to check on him, he responded that he had no pain at all. This was the 2nd answer to about a million prayers sent to the Great Healer in the sky.
My day with Dad was not physically painful except for the stomach ache that lasted most of the morning. It was however challenging to a lesser degree. I feel really sad to see how my dad has aged in 10 short days. When you are almost 93 years old, the slumped shoulders and frown lines appear more menacing. Our conversations were limited and somehow kept coming around full circle. He wants me to see things his way. I want him to see things my way. Neither is willing to compromise anymore than we already have.
I did get out to get a haircut this afternoon which made me feel about 67% better. My stylist's mother passed away last week. We commiserated and lifted each other up as best we could. Just when I am about to be totally consumed with my own little dramas I see much greater suffering in the world to help me try to keep some degree of perspective. And I continue to loved and lifted up by all kinds of people when I least expect it.
Even as I feel disconnected to the man who gave me life, I am ever more aware of the connections of people with big ol' open hearts. To love is to be open to the good and the bad, the dark and the light. I am reminded that darkness can be penetrated by rainbows, robins, emails, love stones, cards, photos, poems, hugs, haircuts, sisters, pussy cats, and mantra bracelets.
Wishing for you the ability to feel the connection,