Back from the Depths of the Drain

If you’re paying attention, the answers are right in front of you. Beware, they are easy to overlook. We are so busy being busy - it’s the message we receive – wake up earlier, work longer, try harder.

Every time I’ve been distraught by my lack of motivation and at my wit’s end - there it is. A baby left in a basket on my front step. Just look down - there it is - waiting for me to notice. This time, my rare bone marrow failure disorder is my lucky charm. Something told me to take notes, starting with that first trip to the ER, in the fall of 2015. It was right under my nose, and I was fortunate enough to notice.

I’m back from the depths of the drain. Here I am, fist raised. I am strong, and I feel it like a surge of electricity. Tested over and over this past couple of years, I came back, bounced back like hitting a fuzzy yellow tennis ball against the wall, white line painted thick, long and straight. Don’t go below the line, color within the lines, stay in line. I won’t be kept in line. Fuck that. Thank you, life threatening, chronic illness, for showing me the way. I now put on my oxygen mask before assisting others. They tell you to do that, not a suggestion.

Circling the drain. I’ve always been fascinated by that little tornado of water as it heads toward the sewer. So powerful, that twister in the tub, taking everything along with it unless you get that stopper in, just in the nick of time, before the water - and all the power of the cyclone - is gone.