Not a post post

This is not a substantial blog post. I do apologize for the shortness. It's Halloween. Not many trick or treaters. The last trick or treaters were not even in costume. I said to one kid, “Who are you supposed to be?” And he said, "You, I'm supposed to be you."
Woah.

O-Dark-Thirty, Part Three

From "Morning Has Broken" by Cat Stevens:

Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing, fresh from the word

And then there is this from Nick Drake's "From the Morning":

A day once dawned, and it was beautiful
A day once dawned from the ground

One of my most bittersweet and beautiful pre-dawn morning was on the morning of September 8, 2000.  It was the morning of my second major open-heart surgery. My family and I were staying at an auxiliary house associated with St. Louis University Hospital for families visiting patients. It was right across the road from the hospital, where my surgery was to take place. I had been hospitalized a week before due to some heart-related issues and so they just let us stay in this house after I was discharged.

It was my sister, mom, dad and I all staying in one room the size of your standard hotel room.

The night before I was nervous about what would happen the next day, but in a lot of ways I just felt like I was going to have a nice, enjoyable long sleep.

And hopefully I would wake up. But if I didn't, I was certain about where I would be headed. I was really sad for my family having to go through this again. Actually, I should say, I was sad for my family having to go through this all my life. I mean, this was only my second major surgery, but they have lived through my first two surgeries as a baby, my life dealing with a kid who had yearly heart check ups, monthly blood draws, minor dietary restrictions, etc., and I was still pretty much all boy. I don't think I ever really took my own health condition that seriously. That changed after the surgery in 2000.

And my poor little sister had to deal with an older brother that already loved being the center of attention getting even more attention.

At any rate, I spent some of the evening writing out some of my favorite scriptures on a small piece of notebook paper. I used to carry a notebook in my back pocket. I used it to jot down ideas, poems, quotes, etc. I wrote these scriptures as a meditation exercise, but also to give my mom something to focus and read while I was in surgery. There was a good chance she might be nervous.

I remember waking up in darkness the next morning, possibly around 4:45 AM. I don't recall if it was to the alarm or not, but I slept pretty well so I may have actually just woke up. I walked into the bathroom, took off my clothes and jumped in the shower. I then got ready to prepare my chest for the surgery. The doctors and nurses told me it would help if I could shave my chest (which is funny because I have hardly any chest hair), and also swab down my chest with the iodine rub. I think that's what it was. I also already had a hospital gown that I could wear over my jeans on my walk to the hospital.

So I stood there in front of the small mirror and shaved my chest. It was kinda fun, I guess. And then there was the next step, which just felt weird. I opened these packets of iodine and rubbed the cool, orange liquid all over my chest and belly. A lot of it dripped into the sink and onto the floor. I repeated this process until I looked like a Jersey Shore wanna-be. At that time I would have called it a fake'n' bake. I think I then slowly put on the hospital gown shirt thingy, underwear, jeans and socks.

My parents and sister were up and getting ready.

As I reflect on it, I'm certain everything felt surreal for all of us. For my parents, well, they had been through this before, so they really knew what I was getting into. My sister really had no idea what would happen, but I think she was just devastated by the whole thing. I was at peace. I believe God gave me this peace, but I also believe I had no idea what was going to happen (as I said, I was a baby during previous surgeries). And maybe that was part of the peace God gave me...the unknown. I wanted more than anything to transfer this peace to my family, but I had hoped that my sense of peace would help them feel at peace.

I remember joking about things. About my chest being orange. Should I just wear my pajamas?

I remember receiving a phone call from a friend, Walt Howard, I believe, because he had just found out about this. I felt horrible I hadn't let him know, but I was so appreciative of his call. I think someone else may have called too, but I can't remember.

We left the house. And this is the part that I remember really well. Or at least, my mind has retained this image of my memory, but it may have been altered over time.

As we walked across the road, I looked to the east and caught a glimpse of the morning sky. I don't believe the sun had started to peak over the horizon yet, but it was illuminating the sky with grey, white and purple colors. I remember feeling this sensation that I often felt at rather inspired moments in my life. It's this feeling as if the world is lit on fire.

Elizabeth Barret Browning said it better than I ever could:

Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries,

I had this incredible sense of God's presence and the beauty of life all around me. I think I smiled. I remember looking at my family and smiling as we walked into the hospital.

It was a morning that felt like the first morning and the last morning. It was a time when I was completely in the now. My past was behind me. My future was uncertain, so there was no point in planning, making to-do lists, or anything like that. I was on a precipice.

I have shared this moment with other people. I've journaled about it as well. I still find that my words fail me, and they fail you. This moment was a gift. 

Surfing Lake Michigan

Ugh, this has been a long day. Every Monday is a long day now. If I don't get time to blog over my lunch break, I pretty much have no time for a substantial blog post at all. I know, faithful reader, you may be disappointed in another brief post. It's past ten. Way past ten.

And then there is Sandy the hurricane. Actually she has nothing to do with the the brevity of this post, but I was surprised to find that she was having a marked effect upon Chicago. At work we got an email alert from our building manager that said there would be gale force winds up to 40-50 tonight and tomorrow. And there was an increased chance of flooding downtown due to waves reaching up to 33 feet on Lake Michigan.  33 feet! I guess there were even surfers catching the waves. I really don't know a better way to write that sentence. Surfers riding the waves? Surfers catching some hang time? I don't know. I feel so old sometimes.

They say that all water activity is banned, but that didn't stop the surfers. Then again, would we be able to accurately describe how high the waves were without the surfers? Just think, now we can say, dude, the waves were so high there were surfers riding the waves.

Please pray for those in the wake of Sandy.  

Brief Post

Honestly, it's the tail end of our anniversary weekend and we are still just trying to cram a whole lot of "us" time in before the week begins, so this will be a brief post.

We had a great time in Galena and the surrounding area. We loved the Irish Cottage and all of its amenities, including the swedish massage, breakfasts, and the friendliness of the staff. The Frank O'Dowd's Pub attached to the hotel was great. Unfortunately we missed the Irish Dancers, but we were  regaled with some wonderful music from the Irish balladeer, Noel Cooney both nights. He even played my request,  "Long Black Veil."

On the second night we had the privilege of having a snug all to ourselves. Snugs are popular in Britain and Ireland. They are small four-walled rooms attached to both ends of a bar. The bartenders or owners would often meet customers in the room and have more intimate or private discussions. Heather and I just enjoyed some pints, played some Monopoly and enjoyed the music.

I will probably write more about our trip later, but not now.

I think it moved.

Heather and I are getting Swedish massages today. A couples massage is what they call it. I'm glad it's not my first time getting a full-body massage. Otherwise, I think I would be a bit edgy. Of course every masseuse is not the same. I just hope I get a woman. That sounds bad, but really I can't understand why a man who is pretty comfortable with himself would want a man to give him a massage. It might just be me.

My first massage was at a place in Springfield. It was in a salon. Everything was very private and relaxing. I had this image that I would be naked with only a small t-towel covering my heiny. Instead the massage therapist invited me back, asked me about health concerns, tense areas, and of course, was this my first time. Then she said she would leave the room and allow me to take off my clothes to "my comfort level" and get into the bed thingy. It was really like a cozy envelope of sheets. I was completely covered up to my neck.

When she reentered, she started some soft New Age music and then informed me about the process. At no point during the process would I ever be fully exposed or anything like that. Basically she worked on each section of my body. My right leg, thigh and feet. And then my left leg, thigh and feet. Kinda like a butcher preparing a piece of meat. Not the best simile. Anyway.

Her hands worked and molded my skin and muscle until I felt like, well, almost nothing. Like I was not there. I felt like I left my body, and was floating in space. Really. It was amazing. I truly felt like God was present with me, and that I could see things pretty clearly. I also felt really idealistic dramatic things like if the leaders of all countries could convene and have these massages they would just get everything resolved. Ever. No more wars, poverty, disease, etc.

But that is the world you visit during a massage. At least that was my experience. When I left, I felt so relaxed.  I felt as if I had a whole new body. It was an appropriate feeling considering the fact that I scheduled the massage for the day ten years after my second major open-heart surgery.

I know a lot of guys are fearful of this sorta thing. Get over it. Really. When you have one, you will be mad you didn't get one sooner. I can't guarantee it will be the same. I'm sure I took a lot of my personality in with me. For example, if the idea of touching a stranger or shaking hands with someone or hugging bothers you now, maybe it's not the best idea for you. But if you are worried about being self-conscious or if "it" will move, I wouldn't let that get in the way. Unless you want it to move, but then we are probably not talking about the same type of massages at all.

Well, now we are off for our couples massage. It's nice to know we will be together, floating in space, smiling like fools.

Update: Just came back from couple's massage. Heather and I feel wonderful, but this was not the dreamy, floating in space experience like the first one. It was still great, but apparently city-living or my work existence behind a desk is taking a toll because I had some really tense areas. And she worked on them. And worked on them. It's interesting to feel a tense area in your body for the first time. I really had no idea these knots were there. In fact, the main tense and sore area of my body didn't involve any substantial work at all. She just found these spots, like a, like a, like a professional therapist. And she worked until I felt them quiver, loosen and retreat, in a sense. It was great afterwards. In fact, I feel great now, but at certain times it was rather uncomfortable. When I asked Heather about this, she said it was normal. She also said she loved it when they found those tense spots and worked on them. Really. She was totally into it. Sometimes she really surprises me.

And yes, I still recommend massages.

Posted with Blogsy