Getting Ready to Launch

The Northern Alaskan Inuit have a tradition colloquially called "blanket toss." A taut blanket of hides is stretched on a frame, which people support on all sides to send one 'dancer' high into the air. Over the past two weeks since I had that blood drawn, I first felt like my doctors and therapist pulled the rug out from under me. Then I realized I was a blanket-dancer with supporters and framework on one side of the blanket only, the other side drooping groundward. My drs and therapist were trying to pick up the blanket. The other side kept dropping: this place didn't take insurance, that place was all full up, the other place couldn't deal with my food allergies. I didn't want to go anyway, so I was laying on my rug, with the end of it picked up by my care providers, spilling. 


Over the past two days, the blanket has become all taut and supported, and the whole team is ready to toss me into the air.  A treatment center in Arizona with a very good reputation was willing to work with me. I had a good feeling from the extensive phone assessment. After evaluating my assessment, they called me back and encouraged me to come in as soon as possible, and they've been in regular contact with me since, giving further such encouragement. Apparently if inpatient treatment was the director's recommendation, they treat it as urgent, and they're sufficiently accustomed to dealing with people with this condition to know we're likely to drag our feet!


So, Alaska Airlines will launch me to Phoenix, AZ, next Tuesday night!


The original point of the blanket toss was scouting--the person flung high in the air was thus able to see much further than from the ground. Looking ahead has never been my strong suit, so perhaps I'm being tossed in the air by all these supporters to enable me to learn to make decisions moment to moment, day to day, that do not jeopardize my life and health.


I'm scared.


They've already told me they'll put me on stronger meds. I won't have access to friends and family, nor to my blog or email initially. I won't have access to all my superfoods and herbs, or my beloved rebounder and Vitamix. I should focus on enjoying all those to the full for the next three days as well as scrambling to wrap up all my work projects and notify project managers that I'll be slowed down for a while.


My Naturopath gave me a wonderful metaphor for handling all these inconveniences. He said to think of the forest and the trees. Yes, he might not think the meds they'll put me on are optimal for me. Yes, I might have to eat some food that he nor I consider good for me. Those are the trees. The forest is that he believes I need to go there to stay alive. So we'll cope with those details, which are, of course, temporary, when I get back.

So, just as the trees leaf and bud here, I'm heading south! I can't even begin to count what I'll be missing--the Writers' Conference here in town, which I look forward to all year. Visits from dear friends of ours. Gardening. My beloved writing groups and the wonderful people in them. 


Meanwhile, Arizona is much more the climate my body was made for...but I'm so used to wearing multiple layers all over my body, and I don't have any clothes for warm weather (not that any of my clothes fit anyway)! 


I will miss this blog and everyone with whom I connect through it. I'll try to post once more before I leave. I will update whenever I have the chance. If I have time, I'll even schedule a couple posts (like that protein powder comparison I keep promising!) to go up while I'm gone. But please, keep in touch with me! I will be slow to respond, but I will respond. I will also be able to do snail mail.
Much love.