I wish this for you, without the pain, without the tears.

I have discovered what it's like to have my "normal" create sadness within others, and I don't like it. Good Midwestern Irish/Germans do their right best to make other people feel comfortable, not make them cry.

My precious mamma sobbed this weekend. People I've never met at Mom's church teared up meeting me, and said that they are praying for me; I made my friends Aimee and Cathy tear up yesterday; and all of these tears just break my heart.

How does one adequately lie and tell others that everything will be okay - that things are good? I dread this upcoming surgery, as I have no idea how I will bolt it on through what promises to be exquisite discomfort. I simply can't bear to see more people sad about this.

Several people have asked about how one keeps a positive attitude when their body is literally falling apart before their eyes, and the answer is simple. The alternative sucks.

If the desire to curl up in a fetal ball in a dark room under a mountain of covers feeling sorry for myself ever takes over, I do it. Alone. Yes, that really happens, but who wants to be around that person? I sure as hell don't.

The sunny disposition is not an act, however. It's a newfound appreciation for the things in life I took for granted for 40 years. Don't become the person that makes others cry before you discover truly being present in your life to enjoy these simple things:

The color of the sky in the morning
Shapes that clouds make
The intricate veining of every individual leaf
The amazing softness of your pets
The warmth of a doggie belly
The sound of a bumblebee
Cultivating a garden
Basil and Ginger
Umami
The feel of a breeze
Moving a joint without pain
Yoga's Savasana
The breath of a sleeping loved one on your skin
The smells during cooking
8,000,000 other things

It's not focusing on the things I can no longer do that I loved, but discovering the joy in the things I've always had and never realized. I wish this for you, without the pain, without the tears.

Merciful Urban Youth, Candy Corn and Percocet

I cried in public for the first time today. Didn't mean to, didn't want to. The tears just came.
Even the gang-bangers gathered in the parking let me pass quietly.
People leave you alone when they think you are a crazy person.

A long time ago - seemingly another lifetime - I had 50 fewer pounds, nearly 20 fewer years, a short skirt, high heels and flowing strawberry curls... Anywho, I was passing the Nankin after a few late night refreshments and some urban youth thought they might like to have my briefcase.

I looked the biggest of the young men squarely in the eye and told him it was haunted. It was odd how quickly they scurried away after I hurled my beautiful case to the sidewalk about ten feet ahead of me started yelling "HEY! YOU BIT ME!" interspersed with random Norwegian swear words. Something about how we had talked about proper behavior in public, more Norwegian, etc... Kicking the poor thing against the wall a dozen or so times added to the effect. (Luckily, those were the days before laptops.) When I turned away they were chatting amongst themselves about the " _____ crazy white lady." I picked up my case and muttered loudly in Norwegian all the way to the ramp.

This time, the drama was nil, and consisted merely of staring straight ahead with tears streaming down my face. Not outright sobbing, just a simple overflow of mind-shattering pain. One of the young men actually looked like he felt sorry for me, and nodded a sign of respect. I half-smiled and he let me pass, purse, cane and tears intact.

I hobbled slowly into CVS. Candy corn and percocet, the dinner of champions. As you can probably tell by my super coherent writing (not), the percs are doing their job, and this batch of candy corn is the best I have ever had.

We adapt to whatever our 'normal' is at the time. Plus, I'm guessing the 'normal' CVS at Snelling & University ... well, I doubt they even noticed.