Today, my mother, my father and I wrangled all of my medical bills and did my taxes. It was incredibly emotional. Looking through the paperwork, seeing terms like emergency anesthesia, catheter insertion, physical therapy, contrast dye, speech therapy, etc. brought be back to what I've gone through in the past year.
It was eye opening to review all of the itemized bills, listing in black and white what I dealt with. It made me so thankful for my amazing body and mind. They're so resilient, so hard working. It's pretty easy to go day by day, but when I look at the big picture this whole experience is incredibly profound.
Danny brought into our relationship a beautiful lab/Chesapeake Bay retriever mix. I've come to see my body just like Emma (the dog). My body follows my mind everywhere I go, happy, full of energy. It does the best that it can on any given occasion. It thrives on challenges, seldom complains and wants to please me.
I view my physical body and my mind as two different entities. I think it's because I've seen first hand how they are intertwined but can exist relatively apart. They're very different but equally important.
I am forever grateful for my body. My body blows my mind. I went for a run today after work. I had been feeling heavily burdened by the reality of all of the medical things my body and mind experienced. I wasn't sure if I could do the three mile minimum that I like to place on myself for workouts. Once I stepped on the treadmill and started running, I began thinking about how badly I wanted to run after the surgeries but literally was not able. I thought about all of the work, all of the baby steps, that I had to do to get to the place where I am now.
Around the fourth mile I started quietly crying, pushing faster and faster, eventually ending with the final mile in 7.3 minutes. I can only hope that the guys on either side of me thought the salty streaks were sweat. It was a mix of happy tears and pain for my body. I'm not sure if that makes any sense. What I'm trying to say is that my body has been through so much, and it gives and it gives and it gives. The poor thing has been brought to the brink, and still it rises up through the pain, the discomfort, the confusion. My body is a gift. Each little cellulite, every masculine muscle, all of the wrinkles, even my lone saddlebag. I care much less about the imperfections these days because it takes me everywhere I need to, lets me push it to no end, and keeps coming back for more. I know I'm lucky. My health is a gift.
