Let me tell you about my mother.
She has been my best girl friend for most of my life. She was actively involved in the raising and clothing and shepherding of my five kids. They grew up thinking of her house as their second home.
She only stands about 5' 5", but on the inside she must be at least a 6 footer.She is feisty and clannish and would protect me with the ferocity of a lioness. There is nothing she would not do for her family.
She has a history of this. When her brother (older brother) got picked on, she would go sailing in to battle with zeal, a little spit-fire, giving those bullies what-for. When she was a young mother and any of her children had problems at school, she marched into the Principal's office expecting justice. When one of us was in the hospital, she was there, making sure we were getting the best care, getting answers from doctors and nurses. Getting results.
Man, she's awesome.
But even she got stymied by CFS. She couldn't do anything about the symptoms, she couldn't stop pieces of my life falling off because of exhaustion and brain stupefication. She couldn't stop the vertigo, the weird sensations, the tininitis. She couldn't take away the seasick nausea.
Still, she found inroads. She brought me money. She brought me presents. She brought me supplements that might help. She still brings me a bottle of B12 every month, and has done this for two years.
She gave another gift that helped keep me anchored to the rest of the world. She phoned me, every few days, dropped by to see me every week. She didn't lose her poise no matter how bad I looked some days. No matter how disjointed my thoughts, She would listen patiently through my stops and starts, and Lord only knows whether I was making sense all that time. Alot of the time I was. But I was also slow, repetitive and wandering much of the time. Some days I couldn't really talk, so she would talk. And when she noticed my head starting to droop she knew it was time for me to go to bed and she'd say good-bye so I could do that.
But she imbedded herself in there and didn't let go. She made her presence felt for me amidst all that static and white noise. She didn't have to. But she did it, for years and years. And it made a difference.
Then two years ago, she gave me another gift. She sent me to a naturopath that she'd found. She paid for monthly visits for two years. And those visits pretty much saved my life, gave me a second chance to live a life. I am not 100% recovered but I am getting there.
Last night I drove my daughter to the ice cream joint 20 minutes from here.
Me. Out driving at night. Standing in the night air. The only fog was in the night air, not in my head. I stood outside for a moment and ... felt.
Felt exultant.
I. Am. Alive.
Thanks Ma. I couldn't be here like this without you.
Happy Mothers Day.
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