When my brother, Mike, was a little baby he often became ill. I was not more than four years old but I still have a memory of my mother rocking him while he made a funny sound when he breathed. I would later find out that he suffered from asthma when I asked why our family doctor came so often to our home. Luckily he seemed to outgrow his childhood affliction or at least know how to control it. He became an avid outdoorsman hiking and running for miles. More than anything he loved to travel, often sleeping in a tent or later in his RV with his family as he journeyed across the world.
Of late Mike and his wife have both been plagued by illnesses and accidents that have left them unable to get too far from home, at least for now. Their once active lives have slowed down. Their adventures mostly involve visits to doctors and exercise programs designed to help them return to a better state of health. What amazes me the most is how optimistically philosophical my dear brother is about his current situation. Instead of holding a pity party for himself he is creating ways to enjoy the slower pace of his life. He finds contentment in sleeping late, reading his many books, revelling in the quiet and undemanding environment that has defined his world for many months now.
I admire my brother’s chill attitude because I struggle when I have to curtail my active life for any reason. Of late there seem to be a whole passel of things holding me back and I am admittedly not happy about it all. Since my vacation last August I’ve been plagued with one issue after another that has kept me mostly inside the four walls of my home. Admittedly I have a much more difficult time finding comfort in may fate than my brother, and I actually wish that I might find it easier to adjust my attitude to fit the moment.
I suppose my decent into a kind of self pity began when my husband’s theoretically easy heart procedure went south and led to some very dire and frightening moments. Of course he was soon declared safe but the past year has seen us making the rounds of one doctor after another in an effort to make certain that he will stay well.
In the meantime I have had my own battles, minor as they actually are. I injured my leg and my foot at Christmas time and then suddenly developed high blood pressure. At least two months went by before my doctors found the secret formula of medications to return me to a nice even pressure for my heart. Then a regular mammogram turned into a scare that led to a biopsy that also turned out okay. Just when I thought that my little trials were over I developed incredibly painful spasms in my back that took me to the emergency room twice. Happily all ended well and I was looking forward to a small vacation, but that too fell apart when my father-in-law developed an impaction and had to be rushed to the hospital.
When my father-in-law finally came home he was weak and relegated to a special diet. More importantly it became apparent to me and my husband that leaving him alone while we traveled was out of the question for now, and maybe for a very long time. Of course I secretly sulked, only revealing my true feelings to a dear friend and one of my daughters. Later I felt awful for being so selfish, especially when I hear my brother rhapsodizing about the loveliness of being homebound.
I have been to so many wonderful places and had more than one “trip of a lifetime.” I should not be so cranky about having to stay home for a time. In truth it has not been so bad. It’s just that I seem to take after my father who always had a kind of Wanderlust. He’d get a faraway look in his eyes and we new that a vacation or even a long distance move was in the offing. He was determined to see all of the United States and most of the world. By the age of thirty who was well on his way to achieving that goal. I suppose that it was somehow fitting that he would die in his car returning home from a trip to the ocean.
My brother is like my mother who found contentment in whatever state life presented to her. She got as much of a kick out of a trip to the store for ice cream as traveling to far away places. She had a knack for finding happiness that appears to have been passed down to my brother, but not so much to me. I’m always antsy, always dreaming about the next trip, but at the same time I am attempting to change my ways. I know that this moment and this life is temporary and I would do well to find joy in even the small moments of each day. I have to remind myself that my leg and foot have healed, my blood pressure is normal again, my back is not causing me pain, I did not have breast cancer, my husband’s heart is working, my father-in-law received the treatments he needed. How can I not be ecstatic over that? Why would I wallow in a pity party over being tied to my home for an indefinite amount of time.
I reveal these things because I suspect that many people that I know and even more that I do not know are struggling with seemingly insurmountable issues. I want them to know that I understand their fears and their moments of grief or loneliness or concern that life will never again be quite the same. Then I would tell them to be like my brother and attempt to find one thing each day that feels beautiful and wonderful. It may be so small that it is difficult to even notice, but in discovering it they will be able to move forward one more day.
Some people are so good at being like my brother. I congratulate them for their positive spirits. I’m doing my best to become more like them. I can ignore that siren that is calling me to the mountains and just close my eyes to visualize what I have already seen. The memories of my trips are so crystal clear that I can remember every vivid minute. For now that should be all I need to calm the itch.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 