This is just a test

This afternoon I was driving along listening to the radio when a familiar voice and sound came on. "This is just a test," it said, followed by the very annoying beep we all know and love. It is reassuring that it is just a test, just a way to make sure that if there is an emergency we can all get information and reassurance that all will be well. At least, we can get it if we are tuned in to the right station. I'd hate to think I had a heavy metal CD in the player when all hell was breaking loose around me!

I have somehow decided to adopt that quote, and it has come in very handy over the years, as a reminder that the real emergency is not here yet. When life has handed me lemons, and some have been giant economy sized, I do not necessarily make lemonade. When lying in a hospital bed hooked up to antibiotics and a morphine pump because something or other went wrong during kidney surgery, I had no desire for lemonade.

I did have, however, the reminder in my head that "this was only a test," which is immediately followed by a steely resolve to do well on this one. Maybe not an "A", as I will admit to being inordinately fond of the morphine. Of course then the nurses informed me I was only using the pump, pushing the button, about a third as much as I was allowed to. I guess that deserves some extra credit.

When informed that the numbness accompanied by fire in my legs was the result of nerve damage, probably caused by a physician giving me way too much of a required thyroid medication, and that it was not going to improve, lemonade might have been nice, but it was not a total solution. Again, "this is just a test" reminded me that there could have been far worse outcomes, and that I had two options:

1. Bitch and moan all the time about how life and that damned doctor had done me wrong, bringing everyone I know down into the dumps with me.

2. Go ahead and be alive and mostly well, accepting that a few things I love, like long walks and the steps to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, were no longer in my repertoire. Actually, I could probably go down the steps as long as I had something or someone to hold on to. I can now do the steps in front of my house, up and down, with no hand-hold and a bag of groceries on each arm - progress!

I firmly believe that option #1would have been far too easy to fall into. I have been pretty healthy for most of my life, and the last few years have been surprising and challenging. I do not, however, believe that it is any good for my body or soul to spend my waking time making everyone else miserable.

Option #2, to me, means I have passed the test. It took a long time and a lot of work, but I can somehow compartmentalize my numerous ills and put them aside for further consideration. I'm not ignoring anything, as self-care has to come before care for anyone else (remember in an airplane that you have to put on the oxygen mask first!), but the "just a test" reminders put things into perspective, and allow me to put them aside until I reach a moment where I just want to feel sorry for myself. Those moments usually don't last more than fifteen minutes or so, and they serve me well. I come out of them feeling much better. Hey, I'm entitled to just a little but of "poor me," aren't I?

Anyway, as the list of later-in-life roadblocks piles up, and I stare down in the morning at my trusty case of pills for this and that, carefully arranged so I don't forget anything, I have thankfully reached a point where I can shake my head and laugh. Whatever shows up next, and I am certain there will be something, I can journey into my head and remind my self that this, too, is only a test.