40 Days and 40 Nights
The Port of Wheatley
“He says, Hey brother Noah, I'll tell you what to do,
Build me a floating zoo, and take some of them
Green alligators and long-necked geese
Some humpty-back camels and some chimpanzees
Some cats and rats and elephants, but sure as you're born
Don't you forget my unicorn.”*
40 Days and 40 Nights
On Tuesday, it had been forty days since my last outing, except for ride-alongs to collect our grocery order or trips to medical appointments (and I’ve had my fair share of those). Since 10th August, I’d visited no park, no conservation area, no marsh or creek or pond. I’ve not been in the woods, nor to the Portlands, nor along the lakeshore.
Forty days and forty nights. It’s a long time! And now I know how Noah must have felt when he was trapped on his ark for for almost six weeks - with or without that Unicorn!
Shortly before my confinement I had a bad fall which resulted in excruciating hip pain. At the urgent care clinic I was diagnosed with Bursitis and, as the best treatment is not compatible with my current meds, the best the doc could offer was anti-inflammatory drops to massage into my hip, and the advice to rest and ice my hip. Rest - leg up, no weight on it. Idle, in other words. Afterwards, my decisions were all fear-based: Fear of further damaging my hip. Fear of venturing out and not being able to manage. Fear that the pain would prove too much to bear. Fear that I’d fall and no one would know where I was. Fear that my body would fail me, etc., etc., etc. You get the picture, non?
And then…
Every now and again, each of us gets a piece of news that stops us in our tracks - the type of bad news that yanks at our heartstrings and of which our brains struggle to make any sort of sense. My turn this month. When the Bursitis pain didn’t go away - indeed, it didn’t even improve - and I began experiencing recurring but sporadic low-grade fevers, I was forced to return to my doctor who eventually voiced the opinion that my pain might be kidney-referred. I heard nothing after that.
Almost tharn!** Perhaps, for a couple of days, I did go tharn.
You can’t imagine how very overwhelming and paralysing was is my fear at simply hearing the K word again much less contemplating dysfunction and dialysis! Fear that this beautiful life we’ve created might vanish into thin air (or into a nephrology unit). I felt the dismay and dread deep to the core of my being. I experienced a full bandwidth of negative emotion — disbelief, anxiety, shock, sadness, concern and anger. And almighty fear. Fear that this might be happening again. I shut down completely. There was no thought of outings or nature or wildlife or wildflowers. None. Does the word “wallowing” come to mind?
Finding the courage to face the fear requires robust intentions, which lately I’ve been lacking — the vigour, the desire and the courage. But last Thursday, a wake-up call from an unlikely source — at an ultrasound appointment the technician, who was sweet and kind and thoughtful and encouraging, had this to say: Fear and anxiety are essential for survivorship. And I am a survivor! Or I want to be.
Negative thinking breeds cynicism, despair and hopelessness. I want to be none of those. Time, then, as Cher so famously advised in “Moonstruck” to - Snap out of it! And Tuesday was the day — to get out and see new things, see some wildlife, have a bit of a walk, enjoy the fresh air and whatever mother nature had to offer.
The morning dawned a warm, big cloud, blue sky day and - if you’ve read some of my blog posts, you know those are my very favourites. It was the best possible omen.
Sanctuary Pond, Point Pelee National Park
It was eventually agreed that I’d take Miss Wheelie (my brand new walker) with me — a bit of a security blanket on my first solo outing. Nice and early Tuesday morning, Miss Wheelie in tow, I visited each of my five favourite new places: Wheatley Provincial Park, The Port of Wheatley, Hillman Marsh, Point Pelee National Park and the Caldwell First Nations’ Boardwalk.
The entire day was idyllic, peaceful, captivating and happy. I walked, I explored, I observed, I photographed and best — I talked to everybody I met. It was perfect! I loved every minute of my outing and came home feeling positively giddy. Also refreshed, rejuvenated, and content.
The human experience is a kaleidoscope of turbulence, surprise, elation, desperation, joy, sadness, failure and success. Navigating that tempest with grace is a challenge, one that, after forty days and forty nights, I finally mastered. Just not with the grace - I’ll have to work on that bit.
’Til next time, y’all…
Caldwell First Nations' Boardwalk
*Songwriter Shel Silverstein, performed by The Irish Rovers. There’s never a bad time for the Rovers so, if you can spare a couple, have a listen (link): The Unicorn
**“Tharn was a rabbit word meaning stupefied or paralysed with fear.” Richard Adams, Introduction, page 17, Watership Down. “Several were almost tharn — that is, in that state of staring, glazed paralysis that comes over terrified or exhausted rabbits.” Richard Adams, Chapter 5 “In the Woods”, page 53, Watership Down.