Grateful 365 #8 – Wonder

It was like walking into life itself as she opened the door to the dark chill of night.

Cold.

So very cold.

It felt good against her skin, awakening nerves dulled by sleep and underactivity. Her first footfalls were silent, but solid. The ground seemed to push back against her steps, lifting her up into the serene skyscape of clouds and stars.

Her breath coalesced into mist as she exhaled, and the next cloud escaped through a smile. Her rhythm was anything but quick, and yet everything joyful as she strode away from feelings of infirmaty. She wouldn’t go far, but she could go.
The cement appeared as the future as she stepped forward and then vanished into the past as she left her last stride behind. The street lamps cast halos; the tree branches and mailboxes -shadow puppets.
Her gaze held on the lights of an illuminated neighborhood sign behind the road hers would soon join. She glided forward, the constant surroundings taken as a given…until a silent whisper of movement moved across her intended path.

coyote wikimedia commons

This is not my coyote. This is just a tribute.

The night soaked creature moved like a ghost, lithe legs carrying it quickly between the lights and the woman  where it became mere silhouette. A slender, wild frame, a slightly bushy tail. It’s figure as an entirity so natural and recognizable, it might as well have been a greek bust.

As suddenly as it had appeared, it stopped as though posing. The backlight of the neighborhood sign behind it casting the wild figure in perfect profile. The head raised curiously, pointed ears perked as it’s golden eyes glowed like moons against its dark outline. Every fine and windblown hair that framed it was  sharper than any picture and radiantly shadowed in a detail that seemed supernatural.

She hadn’t realized it, but she had stopped as well. As the moment progressed, she remembered to breath again and wondered how long it had been since she’d stopped. There was no fear in the air between them. There was no threat. One set of eyes looked at another, but she couldn’t help but think this creature was granting her this moment.

She was grateful. It was beautiful. Perfect. One-of-a-kind.

A moment made just for her by the unlikely intersection of two night dwellers’ coincidental paths.
She yearned for a picture, but the moment she reached to her pocket, it was as though the contract had been breached and the coyote looked away as though saying-

Yours.

She smiled wide as a child as the canine ghosted away along its initial path and out of sight with the speed of a blink.

This moment was hers and its and no one elses. A snapshot that only her mind could ever see in all its fleeting perfection.

This is not a picture of that coyote, and the above is the best I will ever manage where giving others my experience last night is concerned. It was an amazing moment with a gorgeous animal. It was unexpected, emotionally moving in a way that surpasses words, supernaturally peaceful,  and made even more beautiful for the unlikelihood of our paths crossing when and as they did.

So today I’m grateful for the sensation I had and still have looking back- astonishment. Sheer wonder.

For all our science and modern advances, there are still those moments that we can never hope to recreate artificially. Those scenes that are amazing because we did nothing to create them. They are given to us by intersecting realities and paths which cross unpredictably.

These moments don’t just brighten the time in which they happen, but every moment afterwards as we look expectantly forward to the next time they might occur.

And they could happen at any moment.

~all the love~

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Nights like these… (What is Neulasta Pain Like?)

Ow. God, please make it stop. Ow…Fuck.

That’s my existence right now. No. Wait it’s not. Dullness has come and the agony throbs rather than stabs. I’m squinting at the screen.

What is “mild to moderate bone pain?” I want to tell you, because the drug company doesn’t…and nothing you will read will tell you like someone in it’s throes can tell you.

Neulasta…the night after.

Swells of pain that wash over me, climax like an ice pick through my flesh and to my bone…only to fade into dull, hot, sweaty agony. It buzzes under my skin. Everything is under pressure. Everything stings and burns and hums and refuses to let me sleep. I clench my fists and my fingers tingle uncomfortably. I curl my legs and my stomach heaves and rises and churns as though hoping against hope I might be able to just expel these sensations through my lips and be done.

I lose time. I lose thought. Words pass in and out. In and out. In…

I don’t know if I sleep. I don’t know the day or time. Sometimes I barely know my name, but am left only with feverish whispers praying and pleading for mercy. For sleep. For anything other than what is.

Videos play in the background. I catch fragments. I feel like I’m coming in later and later. Maybe I am sleeping, but rested is the last thing I feel.

There is no comfortable position. There is no relief. Movement burns like alcohol in an open wound then tingles and then aches. Stillness throbs with every heartbeat and burns beneath the nerves. Life is beyond uncomfortable. Existence is agony. Breathing is something I wish I could stop doing…it makes me aware of my ribs and back and hips and hands and legs and feet and oh dear God, dear God!!

My head spins. The bed is moving. I’m moving. My head is swimming.

I’m nauseated, but am terrified of all the movement retching brings.

I clench my eyes shut and urge time to pass. Will it with every fiber of my being. Sleep. SLEEP. Let this pass. Please God.  I pray. I pray so hard I almost believe my pain an offering.

I wait for the medication. I wait for the dulling. It’s too late for numbness, I know that much. But dulling. Just a little. Just that sharp, bleeding edge in my legs and hip.  Just the glass shards between my joints and around my bones.  Dull it, take it so I can have words or thought again. Please God. Please Jesus. Please…

Please. Please.

I see shapes when my eyes are closed…the outlines of my heartbeat and the silhouettes of jagged, subterranean nerves on fire. Every now and again, I feel like there’s no way my nerves can take any more…surely they’ll die out and fall silent. Surely they’ll kill themselves. Surely this is the limit of what a human can endure….

The dullness comes. Movements happen in slow motion but everything rings with a memory of pain. I regard it warily but refuse to look at it directly. I close my mind to it. I hide behind the pill in my bloodstream and say my thank yous for this reprieve. The pain is still there, under the surface…but I can contain it. I can hold it. I can move and think and work around it.

Everything seems distant and far away. The keyboard seems unreal. I type these words with caution, afraid that the monster beneath my skin might sense my thoughts and reappear to ravage my poor body again. I shroud myself in prayer. I turn the worship music high and hang my head and grip my crucifix as though fighting vampires.

Please…keep it at bay long enough for me to sleep. Keep it away….