Writing really wants us to tell the truth. So, on the surface I don’t have anything to write about. But after the words started coming [below] and the blah blah blah of recent details were out, I hit the nerve.
After my bout with the flu, I knew I was better when I worked in the garden on Sunday. I planted a camellia bush my neighbors gave me for my birthday, and another Heritage tomato plant. I weeded and whacked back the growth along the fence, making a huge pile of trimmings I was too tired to haul out for the green pickup on Wednesday.
And didn’t write on Sunday, so now it’s Monday. Today I taught first sessions with eight groups of students in Leveled Literacy, including my three new groups of kindergarten children. Lively ones, all of them. After school I worked on some coaching material and cancelled a consultation with a periodontal surgeon.
This evening, after I made supper for mom and me, I simply didn’t have the brain space to face the blank screen and make up a blog post. I guess once I slipped off the March challenge, I slid a long way. We watched a taped episode of Madame Secretary. Just one.
And now I think that my Monday weariness makes more sense. There’s another procedure, a caudal injection, for my mom’s excruciating hip pain scheduled for Wednesday. So she has one more full day to cope.
I find it so wearing. Not her, but hearing her breathing and gasps under her breath and watching everything be so laborious for her. So, I’m not just tired from gardening on Sunday after being sick, and having a very full Monday, I’m just worn out in my nerves. I cannot find a way to tune out what is happening. And I can’t believe how many months we’ve been going through this.
So, I hope that something — this thing on Wednesday — helps mom. I really, really hope so. I know how it might sound. You? You’re tired of the pain? What about her? She’s the one who’s experiencing it.
I know that. And I’m really weary of watching her suffer.