He was snowed in at his place in Detroit, facing the woes of the worst blizzard to hit the Motor City in 40 years, while I was reveling in the warm weather of southwest North America. Cruelly, I shared with him that I was thoroughly enjoying a DQ blizzard in 70 degree temperatures.
The day prior, while on the phone with my parents, I had inquired if they were joining any of their friends to view the Super Bowl. My dad informed me they were snowed in and that church had been canceled that morning. They wouldn't be going anywhere, and would attempt to get reception on the 12" scree television in the guest room. (For the record, my parents have never had cable TV, nor a reliable internet connection, for that matter.)
On my final leg "home" from Phoenix, I thanked Jesus I wasn't in Michigan. And I did again the following week, when my mom informed me that the high for the day would be 8 degrees, and that Dad recently got his car stuck in the drive back to our home. Mom told me they had to call and pay for a tow truck to help get him out.
While my parents faced 8 degree weather, I faced the sun, laying out in 80 degree weather at the north end of Newport Beach. As I absorbed a large dose of Vitamin D, I read several chapters of a book my friend Lisa had told me about several summers ago, as we sat in a hot tub and talked about life, the disappearance of my latest man, and her engagement to her now-husband. That conversation took place in Grand Rapid, Michigan, in summer, when Michigan is wonderful.
But the segment I stumbled upon in that book that afternoon stated, "January in Grand Rapids is almost beyond description. It makes me think that maybe we heard wrong when God said hell is hot, because I think hell might be very, very, mind-numbingly, scream-when-you-open-the-door-cold, like January in Grand Rapids. Hot is tropical. Hot is flip-flops and the smell of coconuts, but cold is much more reminiscent of eternal punishment in my estimation. Like Grand Rapids in January." Cold Tangerines, Shauna Niequest.
The author's words once again confirmed for me that I had made the right decision to spend the winter season not in Michigan.
And then I went for a jog, barefoot, along the beach, and as I did I began to believe.
I began to believe that I was going to get my health back.
And somewhere between lifeguard tower 74 and tower 36, a woman sitting in her bikini hollers out to me, "You're awesome! And you're beautiful!"
As I glanced back to see who said it, by how she was sitting beside a man, I sensed she wasn't a lesbian. I mumbled a thank you (that she probably couldn't hear), and kept going, thinking, perhaps someday, I'll reach awesome health status again. And that maybe, someday, I'll meet another man, who calls me beautiful by name, like the man in Colorado did.
This week I posted on facebook the following: came to CA to process my #CFS chronic illness only to discover a treatment center in the OC that thinks they can help... but could use HELP! w/medical bills. contribute 20 to 100 and i'll send you one of my books as a thank you. (* each month i'm gift about 4 to 6 "good" health days... yesterday was one of them... i was also gifted a free lift ticket - hurrah!)
Next week I start treatment in Newport Beach. And so we'll see if my body responds positively to it...