if you look for the bad, you’ll surely find it.
but if you look for the good, my friends, you’ll be delighted, even if for just a moment…
we were rearranging our living room to fit the Christmas tree. we have a tiny house so it becomes like a game — the Tetris of sliding coffee table, end tables and couches around to make room.
as i was trying to maneuver cords from the lamps, phone chargers, and the laptop, somehow they became tangled with the cords from M’s treatment cart, and i felt a tingling burn starting to creep up in the back of my throat.
and any where i tried to put the cart, it just looked out of place.
a three tiered ikea rolling cart painted in a cheerful pastel teal, adorned with hello kitty stickers, holding the clunky machines, each with their awkward hoses and tubing; a jag to my memory; that these are things we use multiple times a day.
a constant reminder of her disease.
there is never a break, even on days when’s she’s well. 365 days a year with at least 2 times a day, rolling this cart out and forcing her to waste 20 minuets of her life at a go.
as cheery as we were, with the kids bouncing around with excitement, i turned my back and kicked the cart, my voice cracking when C asked me if the tree appeared straight. if i let on i was upset, it would ruin the mood…so i pulled myself together.
once the lights were strung, courtesy of both the C’s, i begrudgingly started M’s nightly treatments:
hating the struggle with her.
hating the gathering of multiple supplies.
hating the noise both the vest and the nebulizer make when turned on.
hating that she has to do this.
hating how her body needs this.
at that same moment, my husband, who snores loudly, loses his wallet on a daily basis and leaves cabinet doors open relentlessly, noticed my contempt, astutely read my mind and quietly and gently said,
“babe, if you’re going to look for the bad, you’ll surely find it. please look at how good this is for her. she needs this. she needs us to guide her to appreciate this technology that will keep her life healthy happy and prolonged.
this is good. it’s all good for her.”
i must admit, i have lost my way, as we sometimes do. i had begun to grow ambivalent towards the treatments, towards these machines again, these huge, loud, time suckers.
but as he spoke, my anger began to soften and i saw the cart in a different light. that in actuality they are there to give her more time to enjoy life.
and as i changed my perspective, i looked down and saw this beautiful little soul.
the cart is part of our home, and snuggled in between the couch and an end table.
because it’s hers.
because it’s good for her.