I used to do this quite often. Then there was the hundred days of Hopper and Free Writing experiments. I've not written just to write and I've written even less for therapy lately. This morning is Father's Day and again, I won't be celebrating. My father doesn't deserve the recognition, the false praise or to have his already inflated ego, boosted by any sort of contact from me. Hell, not even a phone call to ask how I was doing after surgery. I guess he was "busy."
Come to think of it, in our world of technology, I received zero phone calls. A handful of texts that could quite literally be counted on one hand and maybe a dozen comments on social media. I did not publicize it, because despite my type A rants on Facebook, they're rarely aimed at self recognition. The only time I crave that is when surrounded by a room full of kids. It's how I know they're having fun and that is important to me.
I miss my Swag. Today, at 1PM, it will be two full weeks without him. His laying at my feet, meowing for food at this current hour and his over desire to either nap with me or drive me crazy, is what I miss most. I realize rehabbing this hip will impede on my care for him. I sense he'll understand. I just wish I was more confident in bringing him home. The little things like bending down to show him affection, feed him and scooping his litter, are all hindered by my temporary disability. I love him so and hope the two weeks hasn't changed him or even worse, made him forget our bond.
I got back some of my patience in the hospital. I realized the night before, I'd lost some of it. I also realized, how hard it is to explain to an entire staff at a hospital that you have no friends of family that can assist in the recovery process, not even a ride home. Make you realize that those social media 'friend counts" are all a mirage. I listened more than I talked the past two weeks, which is a difficult thing for me. I also realized, despite being put on layaway, I've not lost my social skills. Twenty years ago, who knows, my hospital stay may have ended up with some true friendships.
I've also learned that the little things in life, like a picture drawn by a child, as a welcome home sign is wonderfully touching. It also hurt to know, I'll never experience that from one of my one. I also came to the realization, and yes this sounds maniacally egotistical, that I care too much about other people. Whether it be the 87-year-old man sharing a room with me, his upset daughter, the nurse caring for us both, who I overheard say had $5.26 in her bank account. The therapist whose child is working all summer for a dirt bike, but who is secretly putting her own money into a gas card for him, essentially stripping her of 10% of her take home pay. The mother of two who works 12 hour days at night, so she can spend her days with her kids, never once showing an ounce of fatigue. Then of course, all the problems in the world, big and small. So many affecting me directly.
Finally, the last two weeks has given me an odd break. It allowed me to think about myself and ignore, that, if not for a potential (repeated) favor, I'll be homeless in two three weeks. It's the little things in life we value, because we don't even think of the big things. I've thought about them every day for three years almost and they're exhausting. Doing it alone, is at time terrifying. That being said, right now, in this very moment, I'm better off than most in this chaotic world and despite some guilt, I'll take it.