Sylvia's Journal

I have been thinking a lot about patience yesterday. For one, it is a noun now, and I am that noun, a patient. It comes from the Latin verb patior (pati passus) which means to suffer , undergo, experience; to permit, allow. That is really all there is to do for me right now: suffer, undergo and endure. I find that when I don’t do that I grow impatient and the waiting gets longer. I remember this quote which always made me smile: “Never become irritable waiting for things to get better. If you’ll be patient, you’ll find that you can wait much faster.”

I have always been an impatient person. Impatient with myself for doing something too slowly, not getting something; impatient with others (for the same reasons); impatient with work, with the seasons, with traffic with waiting times. I was also impatient with the vegetables growing in my garden, especially the raspberries and that one blueberry.

But everything changed on that July afternoon when I came to my senses in the plane wreck, stuck in the mud. I remember hearing Axel calling for help, and Joan telling the rescue workers to get us out. I don’t recall saying anything (what else was there to add), or maybe I don’t remember. But what I do remember is about patience: The knowledge that the crew was working as hard as it could and that I had to wait with patience. The knowledge that impatience made the pain in my right ankle flare up. The knowledge that it would take longer to get to me who was at the bottom of the pile of bodies. I remember focusing on my breathing. I learned that some 27 years ago when Sita was born but I don’t think I really got it then. Now I did. Focusing on my breathing made me patient…in and out….in and out….I think it made time go faster. Some people say it took an hour to get us out. I thought it was 30 minutes.

And now I am a patient and my body is healing from the inside out. I try to visualize the two ends from the broken ribs reaching out to each other and my patient breathing weaving the fringed ends back together. I visualize the two sides of my broken ankle, forced back against one another, patiently rebuilding the cells that will connect the two parts….in and out, in and out.

In Native American mythology the animal that represents patience is the ant. In our kitchens we consider them pests, but what they really are is patient animals. I like to imagine the construction workers inside my body being directed by ants. And while they do that, I’ll be (a good) patient.

Yesterday was a quiet day visitor wise, a few more phone calls, an afternoon nap, the delivery of another edible arrangements package (chocolate dipped strawberries from Jennifer Leonardo – thank you!) and a lot of yard and garden work by our neighbor Ted (I watched you, what a workout, I bet you are as stiff as I am in the morning) and Carol Moore who made sure that when I get outside all the flowerbeds in my line of vision look beautiful. Thanks so much Ted and Carol.

I talked with Joan on the phone and she is gearing up to go home, happy but also a little daunted by the prospect of not having around the clock caregivers. Unlike Axel and me, she does not have children nearby or who can move in like Sita did, and Morsi has a fulltime job. I saw that Mary Wright offered her help in the guestbook. We are in this together and might as well be like family. The calendar that Sita has created will also allow for Joan and her family to post requests or needs. If someone is willing and able to coordinate Joan’s support, the position is vacant right now.