Recovering from a dangerous accident involves more than physical healing. It also requires psychological healing. Accidents are frightening. They leave us with an intense feeling of vulnerability. Our spirits are crushed along with our tissues. Both must heal.
After having slept twelve or fourteen hours a day for two weeks, I couldn't fall asleep last night. My back muscles spasmed; my insides were in an uproar. Finally I slept for three hours. Strangely, I woke up feeling more normal, more myself. My body settled down. I feel that I've crested the hill now and can see an easier ride ahead.
All through my sleepless hours last night I could hear the sound of distant machinery. Here in Paradise we rarely hear anything but natural sounds created by weather, wild creatures, thousands of trees and countless insects. In 35 years I've heard a siren not more than seven times including three times when ambulance technicians arrived here to treat snake bites and one fainting spell. Occasionally an airplane or helicopter passes over.
The only other man-made sound we hear is the sound of heavy farm machinery, principally harvesters, which make a lot of noise. That the farmer was working through the night shows the urgency of the task. The noise I hear can mean only one thing: wheat harvest has begun. The wheat has been ripe in the fields for at least a week and if not harvested its quality will deteriorate. Moreover it could be damaged by a storm.
Today instead of going to the ER, as I had planned, I'll have the pleasure of driving our country roads to watch the harvest. I'm coasting now. Maybe I'll take photos to share.
After having slept twelve or fourteen hours a day for two weeks, I couldn't fall asleep last night. My back muscles spasmed; my insides were in an uproar. Finally I slept for three hours. Strangely, I woke up feeling more normal, more myself. My body settled down. I feel that I've crested the hill now and can see an easier ride ahead.
All through my sleepless hours last night I could hear the sound of distant machinery. Here in Paradise we rarely hear anything but natural sounds created by weather, wild creatures, thousands of trees and countless insects. In 35 years I've heard a siren not more than seven times including three times when ambulance technicians arrived here to treat snake bites and one fainting spell. Occasionally an airplane or helicopter passes over.
The only other man-made sound we hear is the sound of heavy farm machinery, principally harvesters, which make a lot of noise. That the farmer was working through the night shows the urgency of the task. The noise I hear can mean only one thing: wheat harvest has begun. The wheat has been ripe in the fields for at least a week and if not harvested its quality will deteriorate. Moreover it could be damaged by a storm.
Today instead of going to the ER, as I had planned, I'll have the pleasure of driving our country roads to watch the harvest. I'm coasting now. Maybe I'll take photos to share.
2 comments:
Yes!
So happy to hear this news!
Love you, Mother!
Enjoy the ride and bring back photos of the wheat through your eyes!
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