Ramblings of an Inquisitive Mind

I am sitting in Cancer Care with my friend today; we are here for her appointment. Again we are waiting, waiting, waiting. As I look around the waiting room, I am suddenly struck by the fragility of our bodies.

I look at so many faces, and I can see the life and strength hidden behind the smiles and stares. But then my eyes focus on the bodies – and the wheelchairs, walkers, oxygen, bent backs, and pale skin. One woman needs to be taken to the back because she is so nauseated. Damn – it is our bodies that let us down. It is so different now, seeing this world as the supporter instead of the patient. It is scarier.

I notice one beautiful older woman. She appears to be wealthy, and I’m guessing that is her husband pushing her wheelchair. Her hair is a very flattering gray, and she wears large sunglasses and lots of jewelry. She is searching for the perfect magazine and Sports Illustrated does not seem to be her preference, but it is all that I see. I notice that her husband is on oxygen as he pushes her past our seats. I say hello and ask if I can help; she says no, just looking for a good magazine. She finally finds one and they call her to the back. It is watching her that has brought up these feelings. So beautiful – spirit so full of life – yet her body is failing her.

I get home and continue to think about this. I look at my own body. Wow. My spirit still feels like I could be in high school, playing basketball, running track, and riding horses. Then I look at this body – not the body of an athletic high school student. I cannot stand up in the morning without hobbling to the bathroom. Chemo and tamoxifen have really done a number on my feet. If I need to pick something up off of the floor, it takes a lot of extra energy compared to just a few years ago.

So here we are with these souls, spirits, and energies trapped in a vessel that is aging, cracking, breaking. I remember my grandmother telling me when she was in her late 80’s, “Melissa, I am tired. I am ready.” Maybe her body was tired, but I do believe that her spirit was not. At this point in my life, I am not having difficulty aging, but I guess my difficulty comes from looking at the physical process that happens to our bodies as we age.

It is not only aging that so strongly points out the fragility of our bodies. There are lots of young people who I have seen going through Cancer Care. Disease, accidents, addictions, and other tragedies bring home just how vulnerable we are. At any moment, our life can be taken. What does that mean??? Does it just mean the body is no longer here but the spirit remains? Even though the body is gone, isn’t this the same air it breathed, the same earth it walked upon, the same sun and moon that shone on its skin?

Maybe I am weird, but I like to think of all the feet that have walked across the same soil I am walking on now – the feet of Native Americans or maybe early settlers. If I am walking along the same ground – touching the same earth – I believe the spirits and souls of those individuals touch me. I can feel their joy, their heartache, their sorrow, their happiness. It makes this crazy world make sense to me, even when nothing else really does.