One Eye Open

Morning, she opens awake like every morning, but today the left eyelid does not follow. "You know how your eyes open from sleep, always both? It was the strangest thing, only one. Half the world."

Holding the phone, I close eyes to meet her there - open one, and force the other to stay down. Can't do it, they're wedded to mutual motion. Therein is our distance, some current pulling her in the other direction.

This is all we know, one eye open, one wants to close. Somewhere near the thalamus, a spot, a mass, difficult to get to, yet unknown.

More tests next week. I know, next week?! She's already waited over a month with an MRI that showed this 'spot' and no one called to tell her about it, until her symptoms increased and she called to tell them. Weeks continue to pass, and now they want to send dye through the arteries in her brain to articulate the location and extension of the mass. Oh, right, but not until next week. That's if the new neurosurgeon wants to order that test. Maybe she'll have to wait a week to have that, and then, of course, the results could take up to a week.

Lisa says, "Trust me on this. Timing is divine, healing is divine. I feel ok about waiting."

The practice is watching her drift, still close, but drift. No matter how you work it, every day of waiting is a small mini-death. Sobering change.

Beautiful, too, though. If you could hear the melody in my headset just now, you'd see how all the limitations in my thinking, all the fear in my heart, dissolves into a place of clear being.

Thank you so much for your well wishes and prayers. Time to work on the levels we can while we wait for a broken system to catch up.