I have had Maroon 5’s song, Moves Like Jagger in my head for the past few days. Unfortunately, it has been more like a Weird Al Jankovic version given my labyrinthitis. In my current version the main chorus line replaces “I’ve got the moves like Jagger” to “I’ve got the moves like Grandma” – pitiful, I know. My mojo has left the building.
What a life lesson I am acquiring from this experience. Being sidelined by an illness that came on mysteriously and will likely go away just as mysteriously, has reminded me of my fragility. I have learned quickly how much I took for granted about my health and how delicate a balance maintaining health can be. I have also had to recognize that my usual approach toward challenges – to power through them – isn’t going to always work.
My movement has been so pensive and undramatic since the onset of the symptoms of labyrinthitis, that I feel that I have aged decades. Prior to Wednesday you would be hard-pressed to find anyone who would define my movement as pensive and undramatic. I talk with my hands, expressions, and movements just as much as with my speech. I do old school – “Oh no you didn’t!” – finger wagging and head bobbing. I am animated in communication and full of flair. Not so much these past handful of days, these days I have had to channel a Buddhist monk in meditation mode. I speak less and I avoid moving my head at all. After all, labyrinthitis is pretty much all in your head.
Movement brings nausea and if there is one thing I have never been able to gracefully endure it is throwing up. I hate throwing up. I do believe that is the reason I never really took to drinking alcohol heavily. Kind of ironic seeing as I now look like a drunk person as I stumble about and get queasy with movement.
My life is presently on hold and now my primary mission has become trying to do whatever it takes to rid myself of this malady. I am supposed to travel early Wednesday AM to visit my two older grandchildren, Noah (6) and Cortney (3). A three-legged flight that will require me to travel across airports with some level of coherence is involved in arriving at my destination. I am not so sure how I am going to fare in that situation at this point in time. My son Noah is going as well – of course he offered to push me around in a wheelchair if I allowed him to take a photo of it. I wondered to myself after he said that – has it come to this? Is this my new reality -limited capacity?
I steeped in my self-pity for a few minutes before I did some self-chastising. If I want to see my grandkids I better be prepared to do what it takes. My illness, although a total bummer and fairly debilitating, will pass. I may not be at 100% right now (it is more like 30%), but just a week ago I had the moves like Jagger. I have been very fortunate to live a life without many health trials and tribulations. Sure, I currently may have the moves of Grandma – but as long as I have any moves at all I am doing what it takes to see those grandkids of mine. I may not be able to control what is going on in my body, but I can control my mind and my level of determination. Tis’ true, I may be medicated, groggy and traversing the airports in wheelchair mode; but, I will not be defeated.
I wonder if I should bring some craft items to decorate the wheelchair – glam it up a bit? Maybe a boa is in order? Streamers through the spokes? I definitely think I need a horn – gotta’ have a horn. I may not be able to turn my head, but it would be great if I could turn others’ heads.
Day one thousand one hundred and twenty of the new forty – obla di obla da