"Situated just five miles from home, it may as well be on the other side of the moon."
Whenever I feel lonely or neglected, forgotten or rejected, I try to image the monks at the Carthusian monastery in the French Alps – isolated, silent, self-reliant, resourceful, creative, intuitive, loving – and I hope to mimic them.
Staying contented in my isolation is very difficult at times. People (even doctors) still fear or avoid me because of my heart condition: In their view, I’m different; I’m complex; I’m a risk. When people find out about “the heart,” their views of me suddenly shift: They don’t want to get involved, or be called upon or drawn in, or have any sort of responsibility if an emergency should arise. I understand: “If I didn’t have all this,” I say, “I wouldn’t want it, either.” And I never expect anyone to want to be around “the heart thing.” I know it’s scary for them. It scares me, too.
So I’ve done most everything in my life on my own, by myself. Travel. Shows. Shop. Worship. You name it. I’ve been a lone ranger -- except when my mother would go along: Ma could face the heart condition.
She hasn’t done so well, though, embracing my vision loss – a complication of my second heart surgery to correct birth defects and their effects -- in April 2006. I have a teensy bit of vision remaining in my left eye; and I’ve honed intuitive skills for utilizing my intellect to interpret visual and sound and tactile information. So I navigate extremely well in my familiar environment; and I orient quickly and find my way smoothly in new ones. But of course, I can’t drive. And I can’t see enough detail to enjoy the scope and beauty of my surroundings. So travel is no longer practical – for me or, consequently, for Ma. And shopping is no fun anymore. I still enjoy shows, though, and church.
I would love to go to a Celtic Christmas show at the local university. Situated just five miles from home, it may as well be on the other side of the moon. Even volunteers won’t drive me to and fro because they are afraid of liability. (I never thought of such a thing when I drove people in my car….)
I am fortunate to have found someone who will drive me to doctors’ appointments. I have two dedicated drivers: One takes me out of town; the other drives me to nearby but out-of-county appointments. Otherwise, I utilize a transport system through the county government to get to in-county daytime appointments and to shop and run routine errands. And once a week, I go with my brother and sister-in-law to the supermarket; and they take me then to places along the way, if needed; and they take me to church.
There’s just no chance, though, to get out among crowds as I used to, and enjoy beautiful settings, and just relax and stretch my legs and my mind, and have some fun -- meeting new people and learning new things, or striking up probing or stimulating conversations.
I have been able to go to a retreat twice a year. My out-of-town driver takes me there (two hours from home) and drops me off and leaves me for the weekend; then he comes back and picks me up and brings me home. I’ve got friends there. I wish they were here.
by Nancy E. Thoerig 09-29-08
Photo of Contentment Island, New York, from http://www.country-living.com/
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