Convalescing as a Country Mouse
/Yesterday morning, I was admiring the rotund bellies of the robins. A passel of them were spread under the apple trees devouring wriggling goodness from the warming earth. Their russet beachball bellies protruded forth, so prominent and cheerful. It was delightful. Clearly, I am now a country mouse.*
A country mouse who didn’t grok until recently that she signed up for an iron man. I thought convalescing from a bone marrow transplant would be a marathon to be sure, I wasn’t aware I was enrolling up for one of those races that last for three days and involve surprise dodgeball games every 20 miles.
Could I have delved more deeply into the experiences of those who walked this path before? For sure I could have, but everyone has a different experience - so learning about X when I might be potentially faced with Y - what would have been the point?
So I have my unique XYZ experience and forge along healing. I watch the robins strut across the lawn. I curl up on the couch. I take naps. I drink tea. I cheer Dragon from the bench as he pedals all the way up the big hill on his bicycle - balancing in his seat. I play the left hand while Bean plays the right and feel my brain synch with hers as we snuggle on the piano bench. I eat bone broth noodles, stream silly shows, and devour books.
On certain days this country mouse has to visit the big city and the recuperating is paused. Paused for the early morning departure, train timetables, catching taxis in the rain (or not), wanting to curl up from fatigue and zapped muscles on filthy sidewalks, navigating waiting rooms, myriad infusions, needles for blood draws, insurance approvals, the checking of medications - all while the double n95 masks fog up my reading glasses. City days are the dodge ball games of this iron man.
But most days I have the robins for company as I convalesce.
*On a total aside, being a country mouse is a fact my mother conflates with all sorts of skills. “Do you know how to hang a shelf/change a lightbulb/use a screwdriver because you live in the country?”
To which the answer is always, “Yes Mom, that is exactly correct.”