I very much have a love/hate relationship with this season of renewal and rebirth. My favorite time of year- winter- is on its way out. Soon my dreaded enemy- summer- will be at my front door. Spring for me is a reminder of all my worst flaws and bad habits. I think I love winter so much because it's an acceptable excuse to be lazy and moody and a motionless sack. In summer, everyone expects you to be tan and upbeat and energetic and at your best. I never am. So I love spring for all its beauty, but I shrink from what it foreshadows.
Spring does have its moments, like this afternoon. After a few days of torrential rains, today is sunny and warm with bright blue skies. Even though my first instinct is to always stay safely tucked away inside the house, I take a stroll in the neighborhood, then I make myself go out onto the deck with my current book. I remind myself that the body needs sunlight. The cats come out there with me, and I find a bit of joy watching them turn their faces up towards the sun, their eyes closed. Their ears twitch at the sound of birds chirping. They are so content, so still. Do their little brains run nonstop with thoughts, the way ours do? They are indifferent, loafing, useless creatures, and they are okay with that because it's their purpose in life. They know we will love them no matter what, and we don't expect anything from them.
I've talked about my garden before. I love the flowers and I love to plant, but I hate all the maintenance. Weeding, watering, feeding, trimming, mulching. I know friends who are happy to work tirelessly out in their yards, who sit and dream about summer coming. The idea of it just wears me out. Heat, humidity, sweating. One afternoon in my flower bed can sideline me for a week with aches and pains and exhaustion. But I know I have to do it. I'm sure J doesn't want to spend all his weekends taking care of the yard, we have almost two acres to tend. But he mows, weeds, edges, fertilizes, aerates, and everything else- not because he loves it, but because he knows that's part of responsible home ownership. And he does warn me every spring- stop planting more flowers and bulbs because I have trouble taking care of what I'm already growing. I never listen.
Right now I am simply too sore to think about anything like that. My arms are black and brown with bruises from all the needles and blood work and labs I've had lately. My insides are in pain from all the probing and poking around. Last night I could barely get off the couch because of cramps and a backache, after a very intense internal ultrasound. I don't want to go into details, but ladies if you don't know what I'm talking about, then you've probably never had one. I've had three- they are not fun. I know these doctor-related aches are temporary, in a week the bruises will be fading to yellow, and what will my excuse be? And I know what the results will be from all this medical detective work. I am old, I am tired, I am out of shape, I am menopausal. I don't exercise. I eat things that come out of a cardboard box instead of directly out of the ground. I drink too much caffeine, eat too much sugar. I don't get enough sleep. Blah blah blah. The same things that plague half of the women in this country! Yet they continue on with their lives, and I stumble.
Unlike the ever changing seasons, everything that is wrong with me is completely in my power to fix. Having a doctor tell me that to my face, will that change things? Will a medical diagnosis of "overweight middle-age female going through menopause" really empower me? My doctor won't tell me anything I didn't already know before all of the lab work and probing. And if I haven't changed by now, I don't know what it will take.
MISS GEE
RIGHT????
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