So I have an appointment with a doctor next week. That’s what my calendar says (and yes, I still use a real one made of paper). Problem is that though the doctor’s name sounds familiar, I can’t place her. And so I begin running through various body parts in my mind and try, through the process of elimination, to figure out what the appointment is for. Without going into a list of possibilities (we’re not all adults here), I came up empty. Yes, I know I could just google her name, but that would have been cheating, sort of. Either I have too many doctors or my memory is beginning to flip me the post-50 bird, so to speak, or the meds that I am on are having some memory impacts or it is yet another of the gazillion effects of lupus. I googled those and discovered that it is one possibility. And now if my hair starts falling out in clumps or my fingertips turn black, I will also know why. Google can be a two-edged sword.
One thing that I do remember is how defensive I used to be. And I say used to be with some satisfaction. It was never something of which I was particularly proud and I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t defensive. It was one of the most suckiest things about me being me: defensive, sensitive, over-emotional, insecure. Well some cosmic combination of medication, therapy and a less stressful life have has left me defensive-free for the past fifteen months.
For example, tonight I needed to head back to work to put in more time to prepare the church garden for All Saints Day, which is this coming Sunday. So I couldn’t make dinner unless we were going to eat very late, assuming that I was capable of moving much after the exertion of weed pulling, planting and mulching. So Piper made dinner even though she had put in a longer day than me. And did the dishes.
So I thanked her.
This is normal healthy behavior. However, there was a time, well, years of time really, when I would have felt so guilty that I would have projected that guilt in less than healthy ways. Instead of being thankful, I would have gotten defensive and made excuses and gotten all emotional and very ungrateful about it.
Have I mentioned how awesome my wife is to have put up with such behavior so many times and practiced forgiveness so many times and modeled gratitude in ways that my pre-medication/pre-therapy/less stress free life could not yet comprehend?
By the way, the appointment is for my semi-annual eye test to make sure that my lupus meds aren’t destroying my macular. I have a kick-butt gifted eye doctor, even if I sometimes forget her name. Maybe that memory has some gratitude surrounding it, too.
In A Mirror Dimly 