There are two principles that can not be disputed, denied, or avoided:

First, if you are removed from the world under whatever circumstances, it will go on without you, and there is nothing you can do about it.

The merry-go-round is spinning, you will fall off, it will keep spinning.

Second, you will be removed from the world under whatever circumstances periodically, it will go on without you, and you will have to not only come to terms with that but you will also have to figure out how to rejoin it.

The merry-go-round is spinning, you will fall off, it will keep spinning. Regardless of how you feel, it will continue to spin, and you will need to jump back on without getting dragged.

I guess there is a third principle to consider, too:

You can choose to keep laying in the dirt while it forever whizzes by and cry about it.

I fell off this week.

After a fun trip to New Orleans by train with my girl, then a weekend on the Connecticut coast with my hubs, my diverticulitis flared to an untenable level. Against great internal protest and a lot of mental kicking and screaming, I put myself in the car and drove to the doctor on Monday afternoon. By Tuesday, I was in the emergency room only later to be fully admitted into the hospital. I came home Thursday.

Crap. Or not, as the case may be.

Diverticulitis is an awful, painful condition in the colon, most often the lower sigmoid section on the lower left side of your tummy. Mine raged, and I knew it was bad. We tried antibiotic shots both Monday and Tuesday, as well as oral antibiotics, to lower my white count and get the infection under control to no avail.

Knowing Diverticulitis could become more complicated – as in potentially rupture and bring about invasive colon surgery or ultimately colostomy – I put myself back in the car and drove to the ER. The fluids (I was so dehydrated!), the IV antibiotics, and the Morphine coupled with Percocet helped. But, oh man, what a mess…

I was off the merry-go-round, and yep, it kept rotating. My new venture, Lavender Lane Creative, was due to begin churning in all its fabulousness on Monday. I already had a few orders to create. I had mapped every detail of the business, from social media post to creation to upcoming event, and there I was, sequestered in a hospital room and down for the count.

I felt sad, lonely, and afraid. As if the abdominal pain wasn’t enough, my heart was broken. I could only lay there and wait…and smell. I smelled like a hospital.

You want to know the pinnacle of misery in the whole thing? I was on the 8th floor in what I surmised to be one of the EXACT rooms Keith was in during our horrible nightmare of a cancer surgery journey in 2015. You can’t write this stuff.

Here’s what I can write, though…

The merry-go-round does not stop spinning. If you get chucked off your ornate, bobbing-up-and-down steed, you hit the ground hard and get left in the dust. The carousel does not slow down. It does not wait for you. It’s painful and emotional and unrelenting.

YOU have to wrestle with your feelings about that.

YOU have to decide if the dusty earth is not so bad, maybe you needed to get off for a rotation or two, that perhaps you need time to adjust your head.

YOU have to choose the right time to brush yourself off, when your body is ready to stand upright, when you can not just tolerate but enjoy the act of spinning again.

YOU have to be resolute in taking the fall in stride, hopping back on with flair, and riding once again atop your bobbing horse with finesse.

I was reminded that 12 years ago, my back went completely out two days before I was due to open my brand new, shiny dance studio. No rhyme. No reason. Back out, could not walk at all. At all. Sent my hubs to Walgreens to buy a set of crutches so I could get to the bathroom. Complete devastation.

I prayed and enlisted other faithful folks to pray. I got carried to the chiropractor for emergency care. I prayed some more in desperation. I managed to be able to walk come opening day and wore a TENS unit to teach my very first classes.

Sometimes that merry-go-round doesn’t just spin. It deliberately and ruthlessly kicks us off without warning or permission. If you’ve ever noticed, those beautiful horses that call to us to ride are adorned with gold swirls and colorful flowers but always look just a little sinister with their cunning smiles and furled eyebrows.

I decided 12 years ago that my studio would absolutely, positively run on opening day. I would, by God, stand in front of those mirrors and teach. I would swing that door open for people and invite them in myself. And I decided this week that I would absolutely, positively move forward with Lavender Lane Creative as soon as I could get up out of the dirt.

That carousel is amusing, right, just like life. It has its hidden twists and turns and bobs, though, that throw us off periodically. You have to know it is inevitable, then you have to make peace with it in order to cope and mount up again.

I am getting better. My white count is down, my pain is almost nil, and there is some slight “movement” if you don’t mind my saying. Poop is a HUGE thing to celebrate when you’re dealing with colon issues. You will never appreciate the value of it until it’s gone, I promise.

My spirit is bruised, but I have cried that out and pulled my big-girl britches back on with full intent not to let this momentary hitch hinder my get-along.

We have so much catching up to do, Y’all. I want to tell you about our cemetery tour in New Orleans. I want to tell you about the draw bridge in Connecticut. I want to tell you about all the super fun things I have cooking for Lavender Lane. I want to tell you about cream of wheat and how it tastes like notebook paper. I want to tell you about the bruises that now surround the unilome tattoo on my arm naturally illustrating both symbolism and irony.

I figure I’ll be back in the saddle and bobbing again by Monday. I have missed you and can’t wait.

Tags: , , , , ,