Friday, June 30, 2017

                                            
                                                          DODGING BULLETS


     I always said that if I escaped a crisis or a challenge unscathed, that I had “dodged a bullet.” In today’s world, that is no longer a humorous expression, but the message is clear. 

     I sometimes wonder how I am lucky enough to dodge some when some seem to get wounded, and others even mortally wounded. There is no answer. Life is random, and in today’s crazy world, you aren’t really “safe” anywhere. We just have to soldier on and be vigilant while taking the best care of ourselves possible. Sometimes even that’s no guarantee.

     This morning, I had to have a medical test that required drinking some awful crap. When I got to the lab, I didn’t have to do that, according to the tech who administered the iodine IV. The stress for me was not the test; it was the crap I was to drink. It is gag-worthy, trust me. In any case, I escaped unscathed, at least so far. There will be black and blue marks from the needle, but that’s far from whine-worthy, maybe just wine-worthy (but I can’t drink, and that really sucks!)

     How many times have you had a car narrowly miss you? How often do you say to yourself, “Wow, that could have gone the opposite way.” How many times have you worried about your kids or your parents in a given situation, only to find they escaped that one, and fell in the shower or off the swing when they got home? Life is so strange.

     I am in complete denial about my age and aging. The times I know I am aging, however, are those when I worry about things that never would have occurred to me in my 20s or even in my 40s. For example, I worry when there’s a new traffic shift because I’ve seen people not understand it and end up in an accident. I worry when I have a simple procedure because I almost died from one over 20 years ago. 

     They made me sign a paper, of course, when having a liver biopsy, which I did, and the next thing I knew I was being given a blood transfusion because the doc nicked an artery. Oops. Should have sued his ass, but I signed the paper, alas. The good news was that my butt fell off after 5 days on my back in the hospital. The bad news is twenty years later, I am still trying to grow it back. (Since when did the big booty become popular? In my day, it was considered a major physical flaw).

     We escaped Tropical Storm Cindy a few weeks ago while skidding through huge puddles on I-75 on our way home from our 34-day trek out west in a small sports car. That was a harrowing experience, and I am here to tell you prayer worked. My eyes were squeezed shut while Mr. Wonderful saved us from disaster. 

     Sometimes I wonder if “the Big Guy” just doles out so many “dodges” per person, and you keep dodging until your number is up. We don’t know how many we get; we just know when they’re used up (or someone does:) All I know is that after the latest dodges, I have said many thank you prayers to Him. I actually say thank you prayers daily. Another sign of aging is that I don’t ask for things anymore; I thank Him for what I have, what I’ve enjoyed, what I am, and for strength to help others do their dodging. 

     How about you? Any dodging going on your way?