Observations from studying a sunflower

Have you ever looked at the center of a sunflower... really looked? It's made up of tiny little flowers--golden stars so small you can't see them unless you look closely. It takes so many to make up the center. And each one becomes a seed someday.

Have you taken the time to stroke a sunflower petal gently between your fingers? It's soft and thin but supple and alive. It feels warm yet cool at the same time. How is that possible?

Have you stopped to realize that even though a bug has chewed a hole in some of the petals of a sunflower it's still incredibly beautiful? It doesn't matter that technically it's "flawed". It's beautiful. It epitomizes an entire season of the year. It can brighten someone's day in an instant. And it can do all this even with slight imperfections.

This particular bloom grew up into the branches of the Eureka lemon tree. With the support of the tree, the giant head of the sunflower didn't weigh down the stem. It never leaned over under the weight and held it's head up high even as the bloom began to fade.

So many lessons I can learn from the sunflower.

All is right with the world... until it isn't

The above photograph is a perfect metaphor for my life right now. I took this photograph last week because the garden was finally trimmed and coifed and looking like I want it to look. When I sit down not far from the spot pictured above and relax in my chaise lounge, I finally don't feel the compulsion to go over my to-do list because of all the things I see that need doing.

After I took this photograph and was post-processing it on my computer, I took a closer look...

That's poop. Probably grey fox poop (otherwise called "scat"). Or maybe it's raccoon poop. But it's still poop.

Even when I thought I had everything tidied up and "just so", I discovered later that there's poop in the scene.

Why is this a metaphor for my life?

In my last post, I wrote about the wonderful experience Hubby and I had enjoying the summer solstice in our back garden and the miraculous sighting I had of a grey fox. To quote A Christmas Story, "All was right with the world."

Little did I know that 24 hours later I would be laying on a gurney in the ER waiting for the results to come back from a chest x-ray, ultrasound and blood tests to determine why I had pain in my upper right abdomen and chest.

I had already determined that I could thank the heavy cream in the Coldstone Creamery ice cream I had the evening before (just before enjoying the summer solstice). Before heading to the ER on Friday evening (in rush hour traffic), my general practitioner had seen me in his office right before closing for the weekend. He concurred that my suspicion was probably correct about the ice cream (since I usually don't indulge in heavy creams and fats). He thought I might have a clogged bile duct in my gallbladder and strongly (STRONGLY) suggested I go to the ER to have further tests done. What I wanted to do was just go home. I asked if I just couldn't do that. He said no. The possibility of an infection was a risk I shouldn't take, in his opinion.

So I went to the ER. Such a "fun" and "romantic" way to spend a Friday night with your Hubby, don't you think?

By 10:30 pm, I was being sent home (the place where I'd wanted to go in the first place). My heart was fine (I knew that). The ultrasound showed I didn't have any gallstones (that was good). But... BUT... the ultrasound showed that my liver is enlarged.

Great.

So just like the metaphorical photograph above, I thought after my surgery a year and a half ago that I had everything cleaned and tidied up inside me, and I was ready to get on with my life. But then along comes an enlarged liver (my proverbial pile of poop) to besmirch the tranquility of my path forward.

There are many things that can cause an enlarged liver. I have my suspicions what has caused mine, because I've had some definite warning signs.  I still have to consult with my general practitioner after more blood tests to try and determine the true root cause. The past few days have been uncomfortable and achey as all the muscles on the right side of my torso try to recover from the muscles spasms I had for about 36 hours straight. I'm eating foods that are high in antioxidants to give my body the tools to reduce the swelling, and I'm paying close attention to what foods make me feel worse and what foods don't.

Needless to say, I can't garden like I want to, and the Cecile Brunner roses that were ready to go into the ground last week are still in pots waiting. Fortunately, I got a lot of cleanup done over the past month so I can go out and sit in my chaise lounge under the wisteria and just relax instead of compulsively seeing things that need to be added to my to-do list. That's the good thing.


Now if the washing machine hadn't decided to freak out and start making a horrendous racket today, I'd be set. *wink*

Paths

When we visited the Japanese tea gardens last month, I was intrigued by a couple of the paths that led over bodies of water. From a distance, the paths seemed like any other stone path, but when I got closer and began to traverse the path to get across the water I realized how treacherous the cracks between the stones were. I realized one false move could easily result in my foot going in between the stones and a nasty fall would follow. I had to carefully navigate from one stone to another to get to my destination. If I wanted to take a look around me to enjoy the beauty while I was on the path (like the purple Japanese water iris growing out in the water), I had to stop in order to take my eyes off the stones. It was only when I could give my undivided attention to the path again that I continued moving forward.

This path is a perfect metaphor for so many things in my life--actually a perfect metaphor for my life's journey in general.

Increasingly since this last spring, I've faced some health challenges that I haven't wanted to admit I was facing. Right now, I feel like I'm in the middle of a giant broken stone path that crosses water I don't want to fall into. Every step has to be made carefully and thoughtfully. One of my ways to deal with it is to write about it. But since I didn't want to fill my creative blog with the sarcastic humor that I tend to rely on to keep from whining, I decided to resurrect my health blog, rename it, and use it as an outlet.

So for those of you that want to follow my creative pursuits unencumbered with detours, just continue to read my posts here.

Anyone else interested in the "saga" of my health issues can go over to the newly dubbed "Could be worse... could be raining" blog I've dedicated to documenting my attempts at finding wellness and humor while living with the disease endometriosis [reading the health blog's revamped right sidebar and then clicking on the button that says "The Halloween that changed my life" is the best way to get up to speed].