(Today’s blog post is part of the Blogging From A to Z Challenge during which writers all over the world blog each day in April based on a corresponding letter of the alphabet. These are my personal stories about living with Trigeminal Neuralgia, the most painful diagnosis known to man.)
Whatever will be, will be.
It’s an old Doris Day song. The beginning lines are, “When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother what will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be rich? Here’s what she said to me….Que Sera, Sear…Whatever will be, will be…”
There wasn’t a line that said, “Will I be pretty? Will I be rich? Will I have the most painful diagnosis known to man?…”
If my post on “Otherthinking” focused on the past and my post on “Perspective” focused on the present, “Que sera, sera (whatever will be, will be),” is how I think about my future. Granted, I don’t spin around my house in a crinoline skirt and heels singing it like Doris Day, but it’s a coping philosophy I use. It isn’t that I’m not aggressive in how I treat my TN, I just don’t really think too far in the future.
Here’s the deal…I’m fifty, single, have the most painful medical condition known to man and rarely leave my house. Why pile on the angst of thinking about where I’ll be a month, year or decade from now? Do I always succeed in living by the “Que sera, sera” credo? Hell no. I’m human after all. But humans have the ability of compartmentalizing our thoughts. I think of our brains as a file cabinet. Some drawers are rifled through daily, like the recipe drawer or the laundry drawer. Others are full of important knowledge that is only required occasionally. The tax drawer. The distant family “what is their name” drawer.
And once in a while, I goof up and open a drawer by mistake. That’s when the future drawer gets opened. I may try to close it before I glimpse what’s inside, but I usually spot something that sticks in my mind. It might be about money or being alone or my condition getting worse, but I quickly slam that drawer and focus on what I’m doing now. And after I slam that drawer, I make sure to dust off the label to limit the chance of opening it again. Doris Day would have used a ridiculously fluffy feather duster. She’d also be dressed in a stylish housecoat wearing feathered mules. And again that’s where we differ. I wear pajamas and use a Swiffer.
The Other Shoe 