About six weeks ago I went on a trip. Literally. I live on top of a mountain. Half the people I love don’t even want to come and visit me because of my road. On the best of days it is filled with holes, ridges and hairpin turns, drop off edges and areas where 2 cars just can’t pass side by side. Then there’s the good side. A paved road that is filled with hairpin turns, drop off edges and areas where 2 cars can pass side by side but just barely and all bets are off if there was a storm the night before and the tree limbs have decided to put up their own turnpikes.
Two days each week I leave the house in the pre-dawn hours to make the journey to my place of work. I despise going to work. I am perfectly fine once I am there (until the bullshit starts) but I hate getting up in the dark while everyone else is snuggly in bed. This particular morning we had the pleasure of a rain and wind storm overnight and I was picking my way through the scattered tree debris as I headed toward the “good” side of the road. About the same time as I am making my descent the intrepid school bus driver is performing the same feats as I except in the opposite direction. I have enormous respect for these road warriors who navigate these behemoths along the byways of Fauquier County. I move over as far as I can to give her the majority of the road. Unfortunately, due to the aforesaid storm, the ditch that lurks on the roadside is obscured by a plethora of leaves. Normally, this would present no problem as I drive an SUV type vehicle. Not today. Today I am driving our newly purchased econocar. (More on this shortly) The passenger side wheels no longer engage with the pavement and have now established a new relationship with the mud and I can’t break it up. Frustrated, I seek my cellphone so that I can make my ever-suffering Honey’s morning when I ask him to come set me free from the ditch.
One of the other reasons my loved ones don’t come see me is because I also have no cell service nor decent internet service on top of the mountain. I know where the “hot spots” reside so I know my only hope is to get out of the car and trudge back up the mountain to reach an area where I can complete my call. While trying to initiate the flashlight app on my phone I start my ascent. The darkness is total and engulfing due to the continued cloud cover and the only thing I can see is the illuminated screen on my phone. The next step I take finds my left foot now also unengaged with the pavement and when it lands in the mud of the ditch I turn over on my ankle. I know immediately that at best, it’s badly sprained and am unwilling to even contemplate the at worst. I don’t see much choice except to continue to try to reach a “hot spot” which I know is at least 2 miles from where I am.
God always looks out for me. I know this to be certain. Very soon I see the lights of a car approaching and as it comes closer to me it slows down then stops. It is 2 of my neighbors who roll down the window and ask me if I am OK. At this point I am so not OK that my only answer is an emphatic, “NO!” Followed by, “Can you drive my back to my house?” They most pleasantly oblige and I am deposited at my doorstep. As I enter the house my Honey is having coffee and has that look on his face that I know so well. It’s the look that says, “This is not good” (only it’s said with a lot of cursing and anguish). So I regale him with my saga then conclude with how I need to elevate and ice my sprained ankle. He assists me by retrieving an ice pack while I am gingerly attempting to remove my shoe and sock. He takes one look at the golf ball that has now attached itself to my ankle and that look returns to his face. My Honey does not often issue edicts to me. I usually don’t respond well to them. He informs me that we will drop Damian off at school and then proceed to the urgent care center for the official proclamation of what we already know is true. A couple of hours later, we emerge with the official proclamation (in CD form) and an appointment with the orthopedic surgeon the next day.
Now it’s time to deal with the car that wishes to continue its relationship with the ditch.
My Honey has already totally shifted his attention to the task at hand. All I can think about is the x-ray I saw of my ankle. I have high expectations after viewing it that I will not need surgery so I am looking at maybe 6 weeks with absolutely no income instead of 8 or more weeks. Did I mention that I am strictly a ‘work for pay’ person? Yeah. I receive no paid time off. Despite the fact that I have many hours of “frozen” sick time (let’s not go there) I will be sans paycheck throughout this whole ordeal. We are blessed, however, because as I mentioned earlier God takes care of me. Fortunately, our small business generates enough income to pay the mortgage so at least I won’t be convalescing in the shelter. The rest of the bills, well, that’s another story. Due to my own preoccupation with these thoughts and possibly the pain medication, I am not processing my Honey’s actions as well as I should. I am entering traumatized mode.
He is out of the SUV and is attaching some type of towing line to the econcar. (It seems his attempts to extricate the car also were unsuccessful and we are now in Plan B.) I am skeptical about this plan and may have even inquired about why we were not calling a tow truck but that may have just been a conversation I had in my head. As the evidence against my competency as a human being is mounting I am not risking drawing any attention to myself at this time. He pops back into the SUV and starts to pull the car from the mud.
Have you ever seen a fully charged fire hose that has come uncoupled while still attached to the open hydrant? Me either but I assume it looked like what happened when the mud released the car from its embrace. The car went careening across the road and plowed into the lovely board on board fencing that establishes the perimeter of one of the oldest and largest properties on the mountain. The stately estate has now had the full Russo experience and is somewhat worse for the wear. The econocar is a lot worse for the wear.
That look has once again returned to my Honey’s face. I am deposited back to the house while he calls the insurance company, towing company and then heads down to speak with our neighbors about the new entrance to their property. I know that despite the deductible the damage to the econocar will be covered by our insurance. I don’t believe we purchased that stupidity rider they suggested so I am now calculating the additional unforeseen expense of returning a stately estate to its former pristine condition. I am beginning to think I may not have enough pain medication.
Don returns with a different look on his face. It’s a look that says, “I really don’t know what just happened and am sincerely trying to process it.” He tells me that he goes up to the door and rings the bell. We know the proprietess of the property is a somewhat frail looking elderly woman. She answers the door and Don begins the unpleasant task of explaining why he is there. She invites him inside after noticing that he is wearing a VMI sweatshirt. (The Virginia Military Institute is where my son Eric graduated from college. It’s a pre-Civil War Institution that has an extensive and tightly knit alumni network.) She tells Don that her husband, for whom she is the caretaker, has dementia and was also a VMI Cadet. She has concerns that if something were to happen to him she would be unable to elicit assistance quickly because her children no longer live in the area. Don gives her all of our phone numbers and tells her that if she ever needs anything to simply call. His wife is a nurse and he is more than willing to come down at a moment’s notice. She tells Don that she believed God had brought him to her today because she had been concerned about her predicament. She also tells him to think nothing of the fence as she will have it taken care of and refuses to have him worry about it. I guess God takes care of both she and I.
The tow truck comes to take the econocar to the auto hospital and Don picks up the rental car.
The next morning I am given good news. No surgery and I can begin immediate weight bearing with an aircast. Predicted time out: 6 weeks if all goes well. I should be able to return to work before Christmas. Yes, Susan, there is a Santa Claus and it looks like he may be able to come visit your home after all!
Prior to my ‘trip’ we had begun to initiate what we have termed our ‘exit strategy’. Don turned 62 this year and although he is not ready for retirement I have felt that I certainly am. We had started to make a financial move that would bring us (me) ever closer to that goal. I have now clearly associated going to work as a life-threatening situation in my post-traumatically stressed mind. I fear that 6 weeks without a paycheck is going to derail my exit strategy. Panic and paranoia are my bed companions for that first week. I am freaking out! This is never a good look on me. I don’t do ‘vulnerable’ and it is unsettling to me and those around me. I cry, I can’t sleep and become obsessed that my lack of activity will lead to weight gain so my normally crazy eating habits moved to the next level. I start lifting weights. The orthopedic surgeon said that if there was no shift in the break after 2 weeks I should be home free. I move a lot but always with the thought of not shifting the break. I have paperwork that needs to be filled out for work to be approved for a ‘personal’ leave of absence. I worry that something is going to go wrong with that and I’ll lose my position. I am conflicted about why I am worried about losing my position because all I want to be able to do is not go to work anyway so what’s that about? I feel isolated and alone. My kids are like, “You’re fine.” I do not feel fine. I decide to go back to basics and do the work. I find that when things tend to be going really well I get lazy and stop doing the work. I define the work as those activities that when I engage in them make me feel my best: eating well, drinking more water and less wine, exercise, being outdoors, meditating, prayer and most of all accepting the fact that I was never in control in the first place.
From tinybuddha.com
We receive the communication that the plan we have been working on has come to fruition. God never lets me down. Happy days are here again! I am doing the work and start feeling better. In fact, I have an epiphany. After almost 6 weeks of staying at home I realize I miss my job. No, I don’t. Nobody misses being thrown up on. I miss the connections I make while doing my job. I miss being with people at their most vulnerable moments and just helping them get through them. I miss listening to my colleagues and just being there for them in their vulnerable moments. I miss them being there for me in mine. Vulnerability is a gift you give yourself. Allowing someone to see you stripped raw and trusting them enough to let you tell your truth is as close to experiencing God as we can get. We usually only share those moments with Him but you can convey some divine presence when you share vulnerability. Can it backfire sometimes? Sure, life is still a shit storm but grace is ever present.
The plague descends on Rancho Russo. It’s 2 days before Thanksgiving and Don has started to cough. At first it’s not too bad but after all our Thanksgiving festivities with friends and family he surrenders and the sounds that emanate from him at night are those heard coming from the little girl during her demonic possession in The Exorcist. Since no priest is readily available I insist he visit our doctor who promptly diagnoses bronchitis which he wastes no time in sharing with the rest of us. Yesterday was the first day I did not need medications to keep me from complete respiratory failure. I still did the work. It’s an interesting dynamic when the entire family is vulnerable at the exact same moment. Talk about turning it all over to God! If I could’ve had him come down from heaven and heat us all some soup I would have done it. P.S. My refrigerator decided to succumb to the plague. We pronounced it dead but were all too sick to bury it. Some sweet little angels came and took it home yesterday. May it rest in peace. We are all just travelers on our way to the same destination.
My Mother-in-Law called me yesterday to ask how I was enjoying my ‘vacation’.
I told her that I was looking forward to my return to work on Monday.
“God bless us, every one!”
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