Ellie Mae

Ellie Mae
Beautiful Ellie Mae

Freddie, the French Bulldog

Freddie, the French Bulldog
Lazing on a sunny afternoon

The artist

The artist
Ollie Mac

Ollie and Annie

Ollie and Annie
Azorean grandmother

Acrylics and watercolors

Acrylics and watercolors
Cannabis and sunflowers

Papa and Ollie Mac

Papa and Ollie Mac
Priorities, Baby

Acrylics and watercolors

Acrylics and watercolors
Hollyhocks

Mahlon Masling Blue

Mahlon Masling Blue
My friend and brother.

Mark's E-mail address

bellspringsmark@gmail.com

Sunday, September 2, 2012

The Tilt-A-Whirl



The Tilt-A-Whirl
Once, long ago, when I was a small boy, a friend of mine and I were at a carnival and bought tickets for the Tilt-A-Whirl, being a little too meek for the Hammerhead but far too daring for the Ferris Wheel.  As enjoyable as the Tilt-A-Whirl had looked from our vantage point on the ground, when we got on the ride, my friend and I were terrified.  Purely as a defense mechanism, we shriveled ourselves into as small of passengers as possible, awaiting the end of the interminable ride.  Much to our astonishment, when the ride finally ended, the man who operated the Tilt-A-Whirl, had the unmitigated gall to yell at us for “sneaking an extra ride.”

Why was the Tilt-A-Whirl so scary?  I think it was because we were expecting one thing, and got something different.  I inherited this characteristic from my mother, this notion of having some sort of clear idea of what my expectations must always be.  If there is a mismatch, then it rocks my world.  So this particular ride on the Tilt-A-Whirl turned into a nightmare, complete with indignant ride operator.

Now I am back on a metaphorical Tilt-A-Whirl.  I am shriveled up on the inside, and compressed against the back of the ride, certainly at my darkest hour, just waiting for the operator to finally let up on the gear shift, so that we can glide to a halt, and get the hell off.  Only there is no getting off this ride called life, not legitimately, anyway.

My intent in writing anything, is always to spotlight what is going on in my head, and not to put the focus on others.  Any of you who have read anything at this site, know that I have ongoing, never-varying instructions about what I may not write about, and that is anything that violates others’ privacy.  I respect this edict with all of my power.  

Sixteen days have passed since we learned of the presence of the tumor on Annie’s kidney.  All we can do is wait until the Sixth of September arrives.  At least then, we will learn some new information and hopefully schedule the surgical procedure, that will begin the healing process.

Meanwhile, we are in a holding pattern.  We are not up in an airplane, holding, nor are we on a phone, holding.  We are in life, holding, because it takes time to arrange these kinds of logistics, cutting people open, to remove unwanted baggage.  One likes to have the best possible person doing the job, and there has been such a person recommended.

However, he is not available just yet, so we are holding.  How am I holding up?  Holding up implies I was up in the first place.  I meant to be... I promised I would be... I tried to be...I even was for the first two or three days, in an invisible and shadowy way.  But nothing happened, and any facade that might have suggested that I was keeping it together, collapsed with nary a hiss.

I wept a lot.  You know, not the dramatic sobs of the man who has been jilted from his lover, just the muted type of sobs, that you hear from a man, who fears that he is going to lose the one centering thing in his life for the past thirty-one years.  Those are the kind of sobs that seem to appear while sitting out under the pippin tree, hidden within the branches, no one there to see or hear anything amiss.

My gut tells me Annie has lived the healthiest lifestyle of anyone I know, and that she is going to take advantage of modern technology and beat this illness.  She has her three strong sons, and I know that I am going to help in any way that I can.  I also know that I will not be at the front of the charge, because I cannot be.  But lots of smaller jobs need to be done that get less glamour, and right now that’s probably better for me anyway.  No one notices someone sobbing while cleaning a toilet, or if she does, she just nods her head, and thanks her lucky stars it’s not her cleaning the bathroom this time.

7 comments:

  1. She thanks her lucky stars that you are even there!
    and, btw, the ferris wheel? far more frightening for me than the hammerhead or the tilt-a-whrl. Those other two are mean to the stomach but the ferris wheel? The ferris wheel tortures the mind for me. so much worse.

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  2. Those holding patterns seem endless when dealing with this type of illness. How could you not be emotional? What's that saying? Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. It is most natural for us to do that.
    I feel that having someone say "I know it's going to be alright." provides the comfort of support.
    So, judging from your description of Annie's strength, I just know it's going to be alright.
    BTW, I think you are very brave and smart to recognize how you can best support Annie.

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  3. As the mother of three sons (and a daughter), I must say that the healing value of a toilet someone else has cleaned can be immense indeed.

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  4. You sound better, Mark. Maybe not as petrified as you were before? Common sense is kicking in, I hope. Yes, Annie has lived a very healthy lifestyle and that WILL work in her favor.If anyone can beat this, she can. Grab on to that bit of hope and let it carry you to the end of this crazy, tilt-a-whirl ride.
    XXOO

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  5. I am very glad to hear that you are doing the small things for the Annie at this difficult time. I know you two will meet success as you head down this journey. And, know that you are not alone in this trip; your whole extended family is right behind you and we will do whatever is necessary to help. Best to you as you two go down this path.

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  6. Markyboy 1231?
    You got a pal of called Rossiboy 56789?
    10?
    :)
    They all are in the Zonearl 25?
    Someone said that's Newfoundland?

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  7. Hi Mark, just checking in after vacation. My heart goes out to both of you. Add me to the list of pray-ers and supporters. You both are so beautiful in your love and honesty. Will help however I can.

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