I’ve heard that phrase a million times, most recently from one of my many boyfriends, Chef Gordon Ramsey (swoon). I’ve watched more Kitchen Nightmares lately than any person should in a week, but his verbal vomit is an intoxicating release for me. It’s how I’d speak to my legs right now if I thought it was acceptable to speak negatively to my own body: “Why the $%^& don’t you work, you pieces of *&^%?! @#$$ off, you idiot sandwiches!”
After having spent six nights in a hospital bed and being too weak from anemia to function like a healthy adult human woman, my strength is not what it was – yet. While I know it’ll come back, and I’m getting stronger every day (NEWSFLASH: I WALKED (with the speed of whatever a plane is on Opposite Day) into my lab appointment today instead of being wheeled in – holllerrrrr),) it’s overwhelming to think I can’t control their speed. I walk like I belong in the Old Folks’ Dorm ™ I live in – though my living situation – that’s a story for another day.
I despise slowness. I don’t like to walk, drive, react, well, basically do anything slowly. But I’m learning, perhaps too slowly (el oh el), that doing things quickly isn’t always the answer. Sometimes speed leads to falls (2017 concussion), speeding tickets (first one last month), inappropriate behavior (I mean …), et cet er ahhhh. Check, check, check.
Today, I met with my hematologist. That’s right. Now I have a blood doctor. Jealous? He wants to do approximately 873,203,407 blood tests for good measure and to make sure I don’t have anything stupid like a rare blood disorder or lymphoma (highly unlikely/relax/just being cautious/chill out). So, off I went to get 12 vials of my blood sucked out for another excellent testing adventure.
I successfully completed another day getting the old veins tapped, and no sooner did I get home from the lahBORatory, I received a call that - long story short - I NEEDED TO GO BACK TOMORROW TO DO IT AGAIN.
Honestly, I’m not even mad. I don’t have it in me. Just bewildered. I laughed at the super apologetic person on the other line, and just said, “Y’know … Shit happens. And God is just trying to teach me something, and I haven’t quite figured out what it is just yet.”
But I have. And it’s patience. And mindfulness. And stillness. Because generally speaking, my insides scream like what Gordon Ramsey once said: “If I relaxed, if I took my foot off the gas, I would probably die.”
But perhaps the opposite may be true.
Bloody Hell, Molly. Just slow down.
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