I Was Played This Week and Thankfully So

It’s funny how words work. They can hold so much power; the slightest variation in term swaying the most adamant opinion.

Selective honesty, massaging the truth, playing to one’s audience; all methods requiring a careful crafting of words to reach one’s goal.

I was played this week and thankfully so. I’ve always told people to ‘tell me like it is’. I’ve held high, as a badge of honor, my ability to be un-phased standing in front of a cold, harsh reality. But as I reflect on this week, I fear that unforgiving honesty would have cut me at the knees and tackled me into a hard, unforgiving concrete.

There is a difference between ‘spiral’ and ‘become septic’. I’ve watched enough Grey’s Anatomy to know what septic means. It’s a pretty unforgiving term. You can’t use it as a sliding scale. Spiral is more dynamic, subjective. I can decide that ‘to spiral’ could mean to gain a few points on the thermometer (we all love an upward trend) or lose a little more water weight from another evening of night sweats.

Hearing the word spiral gave me space to minimize the severity of the situation which, in staying on brand as a walking contradiction, allowed me to make a decision honoring the seriousness of what was before me.

You see, the last time I was faced with a decision regarding my mortality, I almost ran. Ignored the problem. Pretended it didn’t exist. I wanted to run away, leave it all behind and escape the simple responsibility of choosing life. For some odd reason, it was all too much. All the bad I imagined was in front of me, kept me from taking a step forward.

So this time, when I was de-hydrated, malnourished, sweating buckets, swollen, in tachycardia and severe pain; I may have very well turned around and left. It may have all been too overwhelming in that ER room. The comfort of my home, things I can control and the ignorance of whatever could come next may have been what I chose.

I knew it was serious; my body told me hours before I called my parents for a ride. I was already preparing for a possible cancer diagnosis and mentally organizing steps afterwards to reduce responsibilities while honoring my commitments. There was still some control if it was cancer; at least for a little while.

I wasn’t prepared to hear that an infection because of calcium deposits in my salivary glands (hello middle-age), saddled up on a pre-existing condition, was likely to cause my body to start packing it’s bags overnight. My stubborn ass would have probably decided I was packing mine first.

Thankfully, Hot ER Doc crafted his words and let me feign more control than I actually had over the situation, giving me space to make the prudent decision.

So, kids, slow down. Be present, aware of others and, when necessary, craft your words for their betterment. Sometimes even the straightest of shooters have trouble standing upright.

Temper My Strength

Beads of sweat across my brow,

Intent as I show my care.

I only know one way to love,

Everything laid out bare.

They cast doubt in my intentions.

Still I keep my grip firm.

Though I’ve been made,

Their scapegoat villain.

They shout from the sidelines,

Building walls hindering your sight.

I try to pull you closer,

Giving you space to win your fight.

The conflict in our game,

I see reflected in your eyes.

As you cater to those beside you,

Trying to reconcile their lies.

My pain from your distrust,

Shadowed by desire for your best.

I temper my strength in this fight,

Trusting you’ll see my sacrifice.

So I drop my end of this rope,

In our game of tug and war.

I step back in my leave,

my callused hand ready,

to take yours with care.

Strength Not Found Here

So what if I decide,

To ignore tomorrow?

The days will shine on;

The sun rendering it’s care.

The affect of my ripple,

Gradually diminishing in air;

Legends are built by brute force,

Requiring strength not found here.

You pull from my coffers,

Emptied by your greed.

Leaving a debt only I can pay,

While you run free.

Used only as a distraction,

For your convenience.

Remember; a novelty rarely,

Outlives its season.

Who dictated that I,

Must be denied my desires?

Making all the right choices,

Yet still burnt by pain’s fire?

Are you to say whether,

The result is worth my tears?

If your smile outweighs the pain;

The anguish here laid bare?

So don’t mind me,

If I go on to ignore tomorrow.

For just like a water’s ripple,

So shall fade your sorrow.

Empty City

There’s nothing I enjoy more,

Than the silence of an empty city.

Where the lights change with no purpose;

Where the animals have taken the square.

A calm respite from the bitterness,

Of our newfound days.

I can smell the subtle healing,

From the previous day’s tear.

Though through the stillness,

I face with a deafening stare,

Fear of what tomorrow may bring.

A sad anticipation.

Hopeless in its vision.

No matter the heart’s desire,

Yesterday has seemingly,

defined tomorrow.

My soul breaks,

As creation despairs.

Together whispering;

“No more tears.”