“Sharks don’t sleep like humans, but they do have periods of rest and activity. For example, mako sharks are obligate ram ventilators, which means they breathe oxygen from water that flows over their gills. If they stop swimming, they’ll die, so instead of sleeping, they have periods of inactivity to rest and restore energy. However, scientists believe that mako sharks can “switch off” half of their brain to allow them to sleep while swimming. “
I was privileged to go to CHIC, the Cooking and Hospitality Institute of Chicago, many moons ago. For my final, my partner and I included on our menu, grilled Mako Shark, it was delicious! I’ve come to realize that I, like sharks, feel better if I keep moving. I don’t believe I will die if I stop moving, but I hurt when I stop. In a week, I will be receiving my rotator cuff surgery, something I am not looking forward to, but I know, is necessary.
In preparation of this surgery, I have been practicing many tasks with one good arm. Driving, bathing, dressing and food preparation, to name a few, but I know this is a test run and will not compare to the real deal. I have purchased ice packs and the obligatory wedge pillow, but like childbirth, nothing can truly prepare me for the reality of living with after surgery pain and only having the use of my right arm.
I’m not being morbid, but I am fully prepared to have things go wrong, way wrong. My legal affairs are in order and while the company that I previously purchased my raised garden beds is having a sale, I purchased an extra one. Maybe I will add it to my yard next spring, but if not, I have instructed my youngest to build a memorial garden for me and to please include a pink flamingo. Odds are, I’m going to be fine, but if not, I’ve got to keep moving.
I have one week left to get done the projects I’ve been meaning to do. I’ve been working on cleaning up and yes, that means the dreaded basement. We have a flaking brick wall issue, thanks to moisture and the layers of paint my parents applied to the walls. I’ve been scraping and sweeping like nobody’s business, down there and I’m maybe, a third of the way done. Worst part, is that many things I’ve been storing down there have taken on the mildew smell. You know what I mean, the “Damn, do I really need to throw this away or can I somehow salvage this?” smell.
The answer, sadly is no, I cannot salvage most of what I’m referring to, especially the sofa that was given to me by a dear friend. The sofa that has survived many a basement flood, has seen many a D & D – RPG (role playing game) sessions, as well as some adult activities (you know damn well what I mean). Well, I have bagged up the cushions and the sofa cover, and I have instructed my youngest to take the chainsaw to the bitch so we can drag it outside, in manageable pieces, that the trash dudes will take without question.
I know what you asking yourself, “I know Groovy Gail is a crybaby. Was she crying when she came to the decision to rid the basement of the gifted sofa?” The answer is, of course! I was very upset about letting go of the sofa, along with the WFM team leader jacket, the one I earned with blood, sweat and tears. I could wash it, but I’m not going to wear it in public and I don’t want to donate it because it has my name on it. God forbid, someone walks into a WFM wearing it and defiles my good name! Besides, somethings are better to trash than to do a ritualistic burning of, right?
I’ve been working so hard, at home and at my place of employment, in hopes of accomplishing all that I can before I cannot use my left arm. I keep going and going until I just can’t, and then, the pain sets in. The tears roll down my cheeks and I try to stretch and move to help elevate the pain, but I can’t lift my left arm without the assistance of my right arm and so, the tears flow even more so. I try to rest, I really do, I poured myself a glass of wine and sat in my garden, trying to take in its beauty, but then the pain sets in. I decided to move some pots around and that helped to elevate the pain, but as soon as I stopped moving…pain.
I poured myself some more wine, it helps for a moment, but I can’t sit still, I really have never been able to sit still, I need to keep moving, cleaning, preparing, for what, I do not know, but I need to keep moving or I fear I will die. I’m not ready for that final curtain call, but I have told my children, please let me go if it means that I will be living a life of less than, I really would not want that. Please let me go if I cannot be me, in every way, shape and form, if I cannot keep moving, cleaning, preparing, I don’t want to be here, I really don’t.
One of my greatest fears is that something will happen and I will be forcing my children to take care of me for the rest of my life. I don’t want that for them, and I certainly do not want that for me. I’ve scarred my kids enough with my antics, I really don’t want them to have their lasting memories of me in diapers and unable to feed myself. No.
So, I Groovy Gail, the Mako Shark of the human world do thus proclaim, let me go, if… However, I really do believe I’m going to be fine, but I need to keep moving, cleaning, and preparing so I can feel like me. The anal-riffic wonder of the world!
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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