What time is Grey

What time is Grey?

I was awakened by the beat of rain drops and ice pellets bouncing off my windowpane. The sound reminded me of fire crackling in grandma’s fireplace and I was filled with a warmth other than a hot flash. My bedroom was still dark even though it was way past eight I was surprised I had slept far past my usual 5 am physical therapy routine. Perhaps, I was coming down with a cold; health experts on the news are saying that the flu is full force. That would be awful timing, but all I know is that I don’t want to move from beneath the Gammie blanket my grandkids gave me last Christmas. Besides, I wanted to bask a little longer in the afterglow of my reoccurring dream where I married my favorite NBA star and moved out of Pittsburgh forever into a mansion on the waterfront. Our intimacy still felt so real.

My cognitive supplements kicked in and I realized it was Saturday. I didn’t have to get up and prepare for work. I could lay here and relax, enjoying the rhythm of the rain and anticipate the pleasure of my double-shot cappuccino. I decided to skip my physical therapy for the day. Who would know?  Besides, I was paying $40 per session just to pass insurance protocols because my therapist warned me at our consultation not to expect my pain to decrease. She just planned to strengthen me to help with the surgery recovery process.

I always considered myself strong and I asked myself; why had I consumed my earlier years with numerous gym memberships, daily jogging, and a lifetime of healthy eating if I was going to end up like an invalid. I thought I had fortified myself against obesity, high blood pressure, sugar diabetes and all the mid-life health issues that are prominent with African American females. Well, I patted myself on the back for years avoiding those problems, never imagining that one day I would wake up and not be able to walk down the street. Spinal discs 4 and 5 decided to collide and throw me a curve ball that I failed to knock back out of the park. Murphys Law regardless of how much we prepare? No more like God’s plan, but my Pastor told me God doesn’t infect His children with illness. Then I recalled Job’s story and how God allowed the devil to impart so much pain and loss on him and his family to test Job’s faith. So, why not? Faith'; things hoped for but not seen and mine waivers with every sharp pain in my back.

Besides, how do you explain and help your employer, family, and friends understand that you hurt every waking minute of the day when you don't understand the situation yourself? A pain that engulfs your entire mind, body, and spirit that time fails to diminish. So, I decided not to talk about it at all. I have come to endure this cruel physical phenomenon, in silence; a condition that is beyond words or therapeutic deeds. It reminds me of the severed heart I still feel when my father refused to walk me down the aisle at my wedding. It's an isolation of sorts, like being in a blue bubble that one can only peer into the world from and observe the joy you don’t have the agility to participate in. I remember the early morning raindrops on my face as I jogged through the park and making snow angels with my grandkids. Now, those memories dictate my mood, oscillating between anger, self-pity, and frustration with intermittent feelings of violence towards anyone who asks me how I am feeling. When one’s spirit and energy has always been that of a sixteen-year-old and there wasn’t any physical challenge, I was afraid to undertake, I feel cheated in this stage of my life. Like I missed the lottery jackpot by one number.

I scolded myself as I always do. Guilt was settling in. “Stop complaining! You are blessed beyond measure and it could be worse." Rationalization of Have Nots. I never did believe in contentment by comparison. I was so alone, however, in this suffering and my attempts to spare family and friends from my pain has appeared to backfire because now, no one seemed to care. Intimacy was way out of my reach like the top shelf in the kitchen cabinet. I didn’t recognize my body anymore nor did I know how to get it back.

I stretched and felt that familiar twinge radiate through my right side and down my leg and I sighed, knowing that hoping this day would be different than the last 3 years was faith wasted. I pulled the blanket over my head before my growing frustration pivoted my prayer and early morning peace, I tried to concentrate on the fact that I had finally found a surgeon willing to give me another chance at an active life. He told me that I could have up to 80% relief and to my ears that is equivalent to moving into a mansion on the waterfront with the man of my dreams. Surgery in two weeks and it feels like two decades; much like that last month of pregnancy when a mother of two just wants to get it over with again and swears she will never get pregnant again! Every test has been taken, every muscle scrutinized by my therapist and all unhealthy habits put on the back burner. That was the most difficult part. My Pino intake has increased, but I needed to keep something to keep the edge off. The rain was falling at a new pace; another melody and I didn't want it to stop even though I probably needed to go to the store.

I looked through the cracks in the blinds and saw that the darkness had faded into a muted blanket of gray that the streetlamps couldn’t seem to penetrate. I started thinking about all the other tasks I probably needed to do; laundry, filing my taxes, visiting mom at the hospice facility and quickly decided I wasn’t doing any of them. Rest will be my only goal today. I heard my text signal chiming on my phone. and decided it will also be a day to debug. It was going on ten and my time right now is gray during this waiting game. Waiting to feel better…different…loved. So, get up even though it hurts and enjoy some part of it. Ahh, this cappuccino is delicious.