The next love of my life.  My future life partner.  Or perhaps there will be no tomorrow beloved.  (Sigh)

Yesterday I was heading to my Occupational Therapist to have her adjust my thumb splint.  The buses were out of whack because Gent’s huge street party – Gentse Feesten – starts in a few days.

There I was on a street corner with my also-confused Google Maps, trying to figure out what to do.  Either a woman asked me a question or I asked her.  I don’t remember.  Together we discovered a temporary bus stop.  We sat together.  We exchanged contact information.  And this afternoon we’re going for coffee.

I’d guess she’s 35.  Perfect for creating a new friendship.  Far too young for holding hands for the rest of my life.

In England I met another fine human being, this time in my age range.  But she’s deeply immersed in her community and her home.  Gent is not on her horizon.

I love my city.  I want to live here till I die.  Yes, I’ve seen movies where someone crosses oceans to be with the other.  But swimming the English Channel isn’t in the cards for me.  Actually I too crossed an ocean to be with my beloved … but she’s a city rather than a person.

***

So, to answer my question:

Maybe … maybe not

All was going well yesterday afternoon.  Tadej Pogačar was surging ahead of Jonas Vingegaard in the Tour de France.  In a couple of hours I’d be joining fellow Evolutionary Collective members on Zoom.

And then the creeping began …

My forehead becoming hotter.

My mind starting to swim.

And I was sure I was slurring my words as I talked to myself.

Not again!

Tadej was getting a little blurry on the TV.  My world was slowing and spinning gently.  There were big spaces in my head.

A battle began building: Momentary or lasting?  No problemo or major problemo?  Stay at home or head to the hospital?

“You’ve got an EC call coming soon, Bruce.  Suck it up.”  …  “You’re not a doctor.  Go find one.”  …  “Wimp!”  …  “You don’t know what’s happening.  Find someone who does.”

I did a WhatsApp video call with Carolyne, the Executive Director of the EC.  I told her I wasn’t thinking straight but I knew enough to go to Emergency.  She agreed with my decision.

Vaguely I reasoned that they might keep me overnight and that I needed to throw some stuff into my backpack.   I think for several minutes I wandered around the apartment, looking for things to take.  Slow.

***

ECG.  Blood taken.  A small irregularity in the heart rhythm but the doctor said it wasn’t significant.  The blood results were normal.

Doctor said that if it had been him, he’d have come to the hospital too.  And then some new information …

“With a blood infection, you can have “flare-ups” even weeks afterwards.”  The usual symptom culprits show up big time and then disappear in a couple of hours.

Oh.  So I’m prepared for a next time.

***

Back to my apartment.  Then onto the Evolutionary Collective Zoom call – a mere three hours late.

I was welcomed home

The Core group of the Evolutionary Collective has a retreat on Zoom this weekend – five hours on Saturday, the same on Sunday.  I am with family … from various parts of the world.

Am I still “sick”?  Well, I’m not vomiting and I don’t have a fever but the answer is “Yes”.  I am vacant in the head, heavy in the body.  The eyes keep closing, falling towards sleep. 

Our conversations online yesterday were supposedly familiar to me: about open hearts, deep connections and an evolving future.  But mostly I couldn’t follow what people were saying.  “And why are they talking so fast?”  (Except they weren’t)

I’m used to listening to Dutch conversations and grasping for meanings.  But in English?  Oh, dear body, what are you doing?

We 55 did a practice where four of us with sagging bodies were placed in the centre and the rest answered the question “What’s present?” as illness wafted through our online room.

My three friends and I were being held.  I was a lump of clay, being pressed and softened by loving hands.  It was sweet.

Another five hours approach.  My head is wavering between “I don’t want to” and “I do want to.  Plus I gave my word to be there.”

I’m wading in the waters of not knowing.  The softness around me appears to be of the body rather than the heart.  But maybe not.  What’s showing up physically may have a far broader span.

The journey beckons … again and again

I came upon a Facebook advertisement offering two familiar faces.  Sharon Salzberg and Joseph Goldstein are two of the founders of the Insight Meditation Society in Massachusetts, USA.  It’s a Buddhist meditation centre set amid fields and forests.

Joseph was one of my teachers during a long meditation retreat.  I’ve never met Sharon but I’ve read a few of her books.  They’re good people.

Sharon and Joseph are teaching an online meditation course.

Among the comments about the event, two stood out:

I bought this course a while ago and it’s totally worth it!  Loved it and will listen to the lessons again for sure

***

The fact that you charge money for something that should given freely is disgusting.  You should be ashamed

And there you have it … the full span of humanity on display.  It gives me pause.

I was watching something on TV yesterday when an advertisement came on for a video game.  The announcer encouraged us to buy it and then immerse ourselves in the game’s online community.  A carrot was dangled before our eyes …

Be remembered forever

I don’t think so.  I’ve done many good things in this lifetime but after I die, and the people who know me die, Bruce Kerr will be gone.  Some of my writings may linger … but maybe not.  This particular mind and body will be no more.

The Anglican Church’s Book of Common Prayer says it well:

We commend unto thy hands of mercy, most merciful Father, the soul of this our brother departed, and we commit his body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

If only “sister” and “her” were added.

In the spirit of multiple lifetimes, I hope that some version of my essence shows up on Earth again.  But who knows?

***

Enough of this philosophizing.  The poet Mary Oliver reminds me of the moment:

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Good one, Mary

For the past nine days, I’ve been determined to write posts, to throw something out into the world rather than simply receiving what the medical world was giving me.  Mission accomplished.

What’s true is that my recent posts have all been tinged with illness, or some other version of deficit.  I’ve been sitting in Izy Coffee this morning trying to turn this around … but no inspiration was coming.

Half an hour ago, I accepted that perhaps there’d be no post today.  Feeling obligated to write is no good reason to do so.

But then I looked out the window at the scene you see.  I needed to celebrate something rather than merely coping with life’s roller coaster.  And there they were …

Colours

The blue star on the white van

The green of the trees

The gold of the chair and the Izy logo

The red of the sign and the faraway fabric

The yellow of the pillars behind

The world blesses my eyes

I’ve written before about “This” and “That”.   This is right here, right now – the way things are in the moment.  That is over there somewhere, maybe yesterday or tomorrow, or something yearned for.

The challenge for me now is to accept this.

I’m very tired after the hospital, sleeping some during the day, and fully overnight.

I have a sleeping app which talks to my Polar watch.  It says that last night I slept for nine hours.  One category is “Deep Sleep”.  Here’s what Polar has to say about it:

Deep sleep is the stage of sleep in which it is hard to be awakened since your body is less responsive to environmental stimuli.  Most deep sleep occurs during the first half of the night.  This sleep stage restores your body and supports your immune system.  It also affects certain aspects of memory and learning.  The stage of deep sleep is also called slow wave sleep.

Polar says my longterm average for Deep Sleep is 16% of my sleep time.  Last night it was 24%.  Sounds about right.  I’m being renewed.

The perky Bruce seems to have left for parts unknown.  Here are my current responses to some cherished activities:

1.  Play my keyboard > No

2.  Keep learning the lyrics for a song I want to sing > No

3.  Welcome visitors to my home > No

4.  Sit in Izy Coffee in the morning > A weak Yes (I can’t be in the apartment all day)

5.  Talk to people at Izy > Yes (short conversations)

6.  Go on Zoom calls with the Evolutionary Collective > No

7.  Play the cello > No! (too much effort required)

8.  Write this blog > Yes (brief posts)

***

And speaking of “brief” … goodbye for now

Thank you for listening the last six days

I am blessedly home, tired in the bones

I’m resting.  I’m sleeping

See you soon

Guess what, dear blog readers?  I get to go home in a few hours!  The latest blood results show that everything is now normal – except for my foot.  And my family doctor can monitor the redness there.  Something happened to the foot but the doctors wanted to investigate all possibilities, such as my immune system, to make sure something far more serious wasn’t happening.

I don’t know why I’ve been so tired but I have a nice bed at home to address that situation.

Usually I say that I write for others, not for me.  For the last few days, however, creating public thoughts has been my therapy.  Thank you for listening.

Georges is my roommate, about the same age as me. I’d guess 39.  He speaks virtually no English … and then there’s my Dutch.  I don’t have the energy to figure out what people are saying.  I’m surrounded by high-speed Dutch conversations that are wearing me out.

But back to Georges.  We smile a lot at each other.  We’re both some version of “sick” but his cancer trumps my blood.  Two nights ago, I kept him awake as I was panicking about the infection climbing my leg to my heart.  (It didn’t)  Last night it was Georges’ turn – prolonged spells of coughing.  But why would I expect otherwise?  I’m in a hospital.

The bloody mystery continues.  The doctors this morning were wondering out loud about “something underneath” my red foot and previous pneumonia.  Could my immune system be compromised in a way that hasn’t become clear?  New blood results come this afternoon.

So often all I want to do is sleep.  That sounds so old.

I’ll wait for test results before sending off this post.  Pray, cross your fingers, or do anything else that comes naturally.  Mind you, you won’t be reading these words yet, so how can you follow my request?

I just changed my mind.  I’ll send the post now.  I don’t know if I’ll have the oomph for more writing later.

I’ll talk to you tomorrow