IT IS NOT WHAT YOU GET IN LIFE THAT MATTERS AS MUCH AS WHAT YOU DO! WITH WHAT YOU GET
Nanine Case
I began that Saturday morning of the Memorial Day weekend in 2009 like all other days.
Hopping out of bed with the setting on fast forward I head for the kitchen for early morning starters. I sipped on my coffee, content to watch the sunlight dance off the calm waters of Lake Chatuge and the mountain ranges of Tusquittee come alive in the morning sun. Giving little thought to the nagging pain behind my left ear but attributing it, instead, to a long encounter with a hard pillow, I moved on with my day. That evening as the first bite of food hit my tingling tongue and the taste buds screamed their objection, I had to look down at the objects of food on my plate to make sure I had not just introduced my palate to a helping of hot, sweet rust.
The next morning I bolted up in bed staring at my altered reflection in the bedside mirror, trying hard to hold back the fear that was forcing its way in. Something, I thought, was terribly wrong! I cried out in my loudest voice to John through a thick tongue, waiting for the sound of his footsteps on the hallway floor.
Hearing the urgency in my tone, John quickly came to my side, his face marked with concern as he looked on in disbelief at the strange woman in his bed. There was no time for a self-diagnosis or sympathy, just a call to our doctor friend's home phone to describe my symptoms.
Minutes later we were racing down the two-lane to the neighboring town of Murphy, both of us trying hard not to give in to the frightening possibility that I was in the throes of a stroke.
Dressed in his Levi's and waiting in an office void of patients, our somber-faced friend, Rick, painfully delivered his diagnosis, “Nanine, you have Bell’s Palsy.”
And thus began my ten week ordeal!
A drooping left face, distorted speech, advanced vertigo (making me dependent on a walker), and the 50% loss of the left cornea, necessitating a surgical procedure, were taking over my life. I was suddenly condemned to the confines of four walls and a recliner. I was John's "Ever Ready Bunny" stuck on pause.
Locked in the grip of my debilitating condition I began to experience an unexplained, but, welcomed sense of calm and peacefulness. Instead of becoming a victim to my circumstances, I was listening to a call from within, urging me to move out of the pain and into a place where an incredible journey waited; one that would shower me with an abundance of precious gifts.
The first part of the journey took me through the exquisite corridors of my psyche and to parts of me I never knew existed. As the days and weeks wore on I began to discover and enjoy the compassionate and helpful side of humanity, restoring in me the fact that man is basically good. Throughout each day I experienced the concern and tenderness of a loving and attentive husband who held fast to his promise, "through sickness and through health." Through music I took wing on a melodic sound and traveled to familiar places where silent conversations with people from my past filled the empty spaces. It was all-consuming, leaving no time to indulge in a pity party. Even the mirror could not deliver me back to the unpleasantness of my situation. The joy of living was mine, holding fast as my constant companion, while, over the next ten weeks, I gradually gained back 90% of what I had lost.
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It is two and a half years later and, for a very brief moment, I have revisited that chapter of my life’s story. Although it is but a dim memory, it never stops to serve as a reminder that there are still many journeys left for me to take. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow may not be mine to have. Today is ALL I have.
Like a magnet to my soul, Europe once again calls. For eight months I will live amongst its people, seeking out its many mysteries. Perhaps this journey will also allow me to enter through that portal of enlightenment and offer a glimpse into the reason why a part of me always remains behind in Europe, holding up a beacon of light upon my next return.
