By Ricey Wild
Pretty sure I’ma be calling Rezberry Housing for some repairs soon. Due to my last most unfortunate accident, I’m in a wheelchair for the first time in my life. The walls are going to be all scraped up and many bumps into doorways will need to be fixed, too. I’m trying to get the hang of basic geometry but I knew that before I broke my ankle. Not that long ago, I could dance and dance and dance all off-beat and I still made it look cool! Welp, lately I have had a long string of very devastating accidents on all appendages that has left me incapacitated for months, along with death and isolation.
I cry, I question daily, “Why am I still here?’ To suffer even more than I have thus far? Why? Then I see two pair of big brown eyes that shine on me with love every morning. Mitzi and her sister Bugg and feline brothers Tupac, Purrince, Lenny Katvitz and Tom Petty are what gets me out of bed…well that and the functional need to urinate. That’s how I know I’m still around to be able to piss some people off. My life has meaning.
Pretty much all I pray for is a small break from loss and bereavement. I pray for all of our well-beings and what shreds of sanity we collectively have left after this assault on our way of lives. Make no mistake, we are at the point in the story where Bad vs. Good looks like Bad will win. Listen now! We do not have to Lemming off the edge of Republican terrorism thinking. We can always fight later, too.
Noo!!! I read a piece online that stated that we, the ‘all of us’ WE were born for this time in history as we know it to be now. Ha! Maybe that’s where I get some strength from, witnessing the Fall of the Eye of Modor. (Choose your own metaphor) in real time. There used to be days when I read books that had an ending, you could physically know it. But here and now we are in a fluid situation. To my mind that means we can write a utopian and not dystopian last chapter to this current disgusting, vile and criminal administration. WE can write right history. Come with me.
Back to me… poor ole bones, my surgeon told me I have bones like Styrofoam. Yah, this after another surgeon told me this past January I have the bones of a 90-year old woman. I cried, you bet I did, thinking of how much more active I used to be and being homebound as I am now. I have become a rare, fragile doomed flower, but one that can still bite your ass off and you will thank me for it. Ho-Lay! Carried away!
To my point: the Ill-wishes directed at me have failed…I’m still here. I carry no burden of hate, revenge or retaliation. You will deal with that in time, which I now freely admit I will pop some corn because I am so amused by just hanging around to see what happens next. Who needs so-called Reality TV shows these days? Just wake up (I mean that) and turn on the telly, if only to get the gist of today’s confusing and absurd news.
Well, I never ‘have to’ and am rarely asked to call out or name people that have helped me out in a direct way and those who offered help. I love calling them out to prove to myself that there are really good people in my life whose care and love helped me so I could be sitting so comfortably as I am right now in this moment. I do not take my loved ones for granted. They are gifts.
So, to my curmudgenous Ole Unk, A Mighty Hunter and Story-Teller, I say chii miigwech for hauling this ole broken body to and from my ankle surgery and so much more than that. I love and appreciate how you are always here for us relatives. You are our Rock.
To my non-blood relations I say the same, chii miigwech! I feel really isolated right now being homebound but ya’ll have helped me more than you know. In the saddest, most heart-broken time in my life you took the time to let me know you care. I did pray for someone to help me out, and Geena said she would help me out, she saw my need and that I wasn’t getting it from anyone else. Maybe they’re sick n tired of looking after me, I get that, but really now! I’m not doing this for attention, just not wanting to die just yet. Hehehehe.
