My Knee Is Healing, My Mom Was Kneeling

Still day 24, waiting for the call for Anna's double lung transplant.

Today I am writing again because there is time. The day feels so open. Anna painted and I cooked lentil soup, spinach quiche and artichokes to last into the weekend. We picked up Jack in the Box for a high calorie lunch for Anna. Not a usual event, but she is needing to gain a few pounds after the almost blockage event last weekend and her having to lighten her diet. Now that that crisis is past she needs to eat. Tonight I will go home to Livermore.

There have been a lot of feelings this week that have come up having to do with my knee situation. The week began with me on both crutches and today, I am much better. Yesterday I had my stitches taken out and was given a knee "massage" with patella manipulations. Whoa, that was a little hard to take but it relaxed the muscles around my knee and I am walking much better. It has been hard to get a physical therapy appointment schedule set up but next week I will begin. I am already doing some exercises to work on flexibility and strength. I can not wait until my knee is functioning well again.

I have been walking so slowly, deliberately, step by step. It has reminded my of my mother. Mom had terrible arthritis in her knees. She was desperately afraid of falling, so combining the fear and the lack of stability, she did not move very fast at all. In fact a snail may have been able to run rings around her before she ever got where she wanted to go. Sorry, mom, a little sense of humor is needed when you are disabled. If only she could have had that sense of humor. It was all so serious.

As I have sat with my leg up, gimped around and waddled to and fro I have thought a lot about Mom. What would she have said if I told her that I decided to go ahead with knee surgery instantly and had it performed less than 24 hours from when the Dr. proclaimed its necessity? Mom would never have done such a thing. We wanted her to have surgery on her knees. We wanted her to get new knees to improve the quality of her life. She refused. And when asked why she would say, "I don't want you to have to take care of me, Robin. You have too much to do already." I think that she thought this was a way to be humble and to be with less ego, a goal for her spiritual self. Instead, I had to worry about her feebleness and her constant pain. She kneeled in homage to the pain at times by denying herself relief.

My poor dear mother did not know how to stand up and seize what she needed and accept that those around her loved her and would gladly help her heal. The surgery I had was not so bad. I am getting better, she could have gotten better too, with my help. It makes me sad that she did not take advantage of surgery for herself. She could have had a much better quality of life. Note to myself: if I need knee replacement, get it! No guilt allowed.

The sadness about mom and her knees makes me want to touch her and hug her. I miss her. It is not the suffering that I miss, it is the great person that she was. It is also the encouragement that she gave to Anna. She could not accept cheerleaders for herself but she loved to be a cheerleader for her children and grandchildren. She supported us all with a lot of love, maturity and insight. We all depended on her wisdom.

Looking through a journal of writings that she left behind for me, there is a passage about our struggle with CF and about the possibility of miracles we are hoping for today. It is dated February, 1983, Anna was admitted to the hospital in critical condition beginning our CF journey on my dad's birthday, January 29, 1983.

"I must record the following, this occurred during the night of Jan 30, when our precious baby lay gravely ill - I was awakened from my sleep by feelings of anguish. I felt great discomfort in my body. I tried to rise above this feeling - then slowly it faded and was replaced by this beautiful, calming sensation of peace - My eyes were closed and accompanying this feeling of calm that enveloped me I saw points of light like stars blink in and out - it was wonderful - out of this dark despair and fear for Anna's life I felt that she would live, that she would be well - I lay with this magical feeling for a long time - I was fully awake, but this beautiful calm remained with me - the telephone rang - I ran to answer - it was Robin - she had to talk, to cry, she was heavy with despair - and because of this experience I had just been through I was able to give to Robin the knowledge that Anna would be well, that she would live - I was given this huge gift of light at the moment most needed. Two weeks have gone by since then and many times I have felt great anguish over the sight of my precious daughter in such suffering over the critical illness of Anna - at times I felt despair - but was able to reconnect with this great insight that night of darkness and pain. May I be worthy of this insight. Shanti - shanti "

Oh Mom, even you in your self effacing way, pushing away healing and help for you could have this experience. Even you, a mature, wise, grounded woman could have a magical moment with seeing stars and having a warm glow in your heart. I am so glad that you could have the joy of feeling you had a special gift to give me. I remember that phone call I made on the pay phone in the hospital to my mother. I needed you then, Mom. You helped me. Thank you. And you were right, it all turned out and I know your blessed vision will continue to be true and the lungs will come, at the right time.........

Mom also wrote, April, 1983, "I became aware that we indeed carry within us, The Divinity." Yes mom, with strong hearts we can kneel with respect like you did to this energy. May each of us see it with humility and with courage, knowing we are all worthy of care and healing.