“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream…” The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allen Poe.

I’m home now, but the world seemed to crash suddenly around me tonight.

Of course, it makes sense.  The excitement, the drama and adrenalin of the rush to the hospital, the surgery, the recovery and trip home ended abruptly. In the hospital ward, I was a good boy, a good patient, motivated, praised for my determination and athleticism (I could hardly believe it), much excitement, goals and steps to conquer. Here at home, it is just life, and a lot of it, every single day. You are in your life, but not really. This is not my life, not yet. Life goes on for people, as it should, they have their own struggles and pain and sorrows.

Now, there was the reality of it, it has struck home, the dream within a dream, the nightmare. It just all hit me like a punch to the nose. We have our pill schedules in hand, the refrigerator stocked, we have arranged the furniture in the house learned how to change bandages. No loving and cheering nurses, exhorting doctors, supportive friends and fans.  I have comfortable walking clothes, I can get to the bathroom by myself.

It was late at night, I could not sleep. Maria was exhausted, sleeping on the couch nearby. I was in it, enveloped by it.

I had installed myself in the reclining chair the way I was supposed to, my feet up in the air. There was a rush of pain in the center of my chest, especially around the three holes where giant tubes drained the fluid from my lungs and around my heart. I felt every breath deeply.

I think the removal of those tubes was one of the worst things for me in the hospital, the image and memory kept coming back from midnight on. I couldn’t sleep at all, and for the first time. I didn’t realize the power had gone out at first, I just realized I couldn’t move the recliner, I was stuck with my feet far up off the ground and no safe way to move. When I looked around, I saw all the other lights in the house were out.  Maria, exhausted from days of sitting by my side and caring for me, was asleep, breathing deeply, I would not wake her for the world. Sitting up by the waist would be the most dangerous thing I could possibly do for my healing sternum, held together with wires and plates.

I stayed calm, stayed still, the power came on after 30 minutes or so. Maria woke briefly, asked me what was happening, I said things were good and she fell back into her deep and desperately needed sleep. This is just the second day of being home, I thought, how can she survive weeks and months of this, the never-ending chores, tending, cleaning, lifting, helping?

My mind had taken off. If the power did not come back on, I knew we would have to call for help, perhaps Jack our neighbor, the rescue squad if necessary, trying to crawl off that chair was precisely the kind of movement I had been most warned against. I have rarely in my life felt so helpless, I remembered how I calmed myself when I woke up in the hospital room with a breathing tube down my throat, I just told myself to breath, regularly and deeply, Red appeared at my sight, he senses changes in moods. I’m sure he spelled my rising panic.

What if I had to go to the bathroom? Or got nauseous?

I had to walk, even outside in the pitch dark, even at 3 a.m.  It is my affirmation, my salvation, my identity.  I lowered my chair, hugged my heart pillow for dear life, rocked back and forth, wiggled to the edge,  slipped my shoes on, waved to Red, who slipped out the door with me.

I have this faith that Red will watch over me even when he can’t. And what, after all, could he do if I fell or stumbled in the dark?  Still, his eyes followed me like a bodyguard. It was so black I knew it was foolish to  walk, but sitting still in the house was worse, I could feel the gravel part of the driveway under my feet,  and knew that part was flat and safe. Keep walking, keep moving. Walking is life, healing, dignity and movement.

I thought I heard Simon stirring near the gate – but no bray. I walked around the car and down the driveway.  I saw lights coming from far down the road. A coyote called out to me in a mournful way across the the road far up in the hills. I waved to him, then felt silly. I heard owls talking to one another in the pasture, one of the lambs calling out to their mother. I began my walking, listening to the crunch of the gravel, the barn cats skittering along at times, interested to see what I was doing, hoping perhaps for a cuddle. Red made a move to the gate, then saw we weren’t going there. He figured out what I was doing,  followed me partway each time, then lay down, he will not go near the road without permission. He never took his eyes off of me. He was with me.

I walked steadily, I had a lot of fluid in my lungs, I kept spitting it out, I can hardly believe how much fluid comes out of these wounds, out of my tell-tale, still broken heart. It never seems to end. I had to be quiet. Maria would kill me if she woke up and found me walking around in the darkness by myself. But she of all people would understand. Sometimes you just have to find your identity.

This will happen more than once, I reminded myself. This is not a straight line, not one path, not a matter of laps and recording good mileages. It is a marathon, not a sprint.  I kept moving, I felt my body begin to come to life, to loosen, to move. I heard the frogs and the crickets in their soothing and ancient symphony, I decided they were singing for me, cheering me on, my angel chorus.  Minnie and Flo appeared, curious, emerging from the shadows. My eyes adjusted a bit. The farm, it seemed, was strolling along with me, part of my walk.

There was a savage burst of pain, stars in my eyes. I had hit the car mirror with my left arm, a bad thing in a bad place, the pain shot through my side like a lightning bolt, I cursed, prayed, blasphemed, swayed, sweated, Red up on his feet, assessing me in his professional way. Keep walking. I did a dozen more trips to the road and back, I had my footing now,  the pain throbbed but eased, I had my markers, a car came sweeping down the road, and slowed a bit, catching in it’s big beam a huge man, robe flapping in the breeze, marching up and down his driveway. I waved, they honked, a connection out their in the darkness. What could they imagine?

I decided that was enough of a walk, I was tiring, returning to ground, I brought Red back into the house, drank some water, spit some more, fixed some of the clocks blinking after the outage, I took one of the pain pills I had been avoiding. Stay with the pain, the nurses said, keep up with it or it will get away from you. For the first time, I am feeling sleepy.

My walk was a dream within a dream, all that I saw, all that I seem. Life and death, darkness and light, they are not different things but one and the same thing. Light is just around the corner, crisis and mystery tiptoeing right behind.

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