Today I saw her for the third time regarding this fabulous little virus that is robbing me of all the wonderful energy I enjoy while teaching and parenting and just living. She put her arm around me and told me she knows how hard it is for me to be patient for recovery. She told me how frustrated is that she can't "fix" this for me.
After getting sent to the lab for blood work I had to wait behind a woman who must have had at least thirteen orders for different blood tests. There was only one receptionist as it was lunch time. I was already exhausted and beginning to get cranky with waiting. So I took a seat, started to rustle through the newspaper for distraction from this aggravation. Then I noticed some artwork in the hall. Instead of seeking distraction I just stopped and looked at it. Took in the details. Found it to be quite lovely, and was startled when another receptionist came back from lunch and called to me.
As I drove home, a car pulled out in front of me. Perhaps the driver thought it was Sunday, as he was practically crawling with his car. This time, instead of pulling out to pass, I removed my foot from the accelerator and settled in for an extended journey home. In doing so I was able to notice some crocuses that had bloomed by a church, a heron in the marsh, little sparks of nature.
Several friends texted me today, checking in. They want a report of improvement. I loathe not being able to provide that great news. Lord knows it's what I WANT to say. Then I recalled doing the same thing to my ailing friends. I just want them to feel better. Now. I have so often failed to be patient with those I care about when they are physically or emotionally unwell. I throw out the obligatory "Let me know if I can do anything..." and then just wish they would get the heck better. And now here I am, feeling like a failure for not recovering faster. Patience. I try to be gentle with myself and practice patience. I'm going to need a lot more practice before I start feeling successful with the concept.