I don’t want to be a cliché. People that get a “second chance” at life are supposed to tell everyone else how much they should appreciate life. The roses smell sweeter. The sunsets are more vibrant. Blab blab blab ba. The thing is, a lot of days, it is true.
There are days when it mystifies me that marching bands aren’t walking down the street every day followed by fireworks every evening because I’m still here. (How is that for self-involved!?!) I mean it in the sense that there are so many reasons why I shouldn’t still be here.
The cliché annoys me because it assumes no one really appreciates living until they nearly die. That isn’t me. I appreciate living enough that I fought like hell to still be here. I may be broke. I may not have a lot of the things in life you’re supposed to have at, ummm….middle age….but I do have a strong sense of purpose. I’ve spent most of my life not assuming I’m going to live forever, and I know I’m not the only one. So, I’m not going to lecture anyone about the smell of roses or rate sunsets.
I won’t, however, promise that I’ll never sometimes gush with pure unadulterated glee. This past Monday was one of those days.
I had a day full of appointments. None of them were pleasant tasks and I can’t say it was a day I bounced out of bed with that sense of purpose about life.
After getting ready and taking Finley for a walk, I started out for my day by going to the pharmacy. That is typically never fun. It is rare that I go to the pharmacy without some kind of complication. It might be a copay that is more than I expected or a script I thought they filled that wasn’t filled because some doctor’s office needed to call something in. Some drug I need isn’t in stock so it has to be ordered. It’s always something. I never seem to be able to plan perfectly enough to avoid all the complications I should probably see coming. On this day, however, everything went smoothly. All my scripts were accounted for and ready and they cost just about what I expected them to cost.
Then, I ubered to the tax guy. It’s one of those yearly rituals that I dread. I make so little that I rarely owe income tax, but self-employment tax gets me. Normally, I’m able to pay along the way and estimate things pretty well, but these past two years with working less and less, and bills being more and more, my tax fund had to be raided for frivolous things like medicine. But, surprise! Everything came out okay. I was actually even for the year! Woohoo! This day was turning out to be just a fraction of the torture I had expected.
Next, I ubered to the landlord’s office to give them a copy of my taxes so they could finish my lease. This is another errand that every year is something similar to going to the dentist for a root canal. I complete no less than 30 pages of forms to live in a committed affordable housing unit. Often I have to make multiple trips because a form was missing, or they gave me last year’s form or some such thing. It always all comes due at the worst possible time of year for me too…right about when conference hits. Again, surprise, it was pretty painless. Besides waiting about half an hour for someone who could notarize some of the forms, it wasn’t nearly as bad as usual.
It was a beautiful day outside. My mood was improving since things had gone better than expected. I walked to the metro station, which was a bit of a hike, but after stopping at Starbucks to use the restroom and get a latte, I decided to try to walk to last errand, the Department of Motor Vehicles.
Why does a blind lady need to go to the DMV? My Kansas state ID was renewed only months before I moved to Virginia and I’ve never gotten it reissued as a Virginia state ID. Before my transplant, I was trying to get it done, and get a handicapped parking placard because of the oxygen issues, but it turned out to be a nightmare. After three trips to three different DMV offices and conflicting instructions from the Website and DMV staff, I finally just gave up. I had devoted a ridiculous amount of time to the project with no results, and this is when I was on increasingly large amounts of oxygen. It wasn’t easy to run around, be gone and not know how long something was going to take etc. I gave up.
Now, however, my ID is going to expire this summer. I’m planning on flying for the first time since my transplant in May, and I don’t want my plans ruined because my ID is too close to expiring to be accepted somewhere along the way.
I thought I knew where the DMV office was. I thought it was a long walk from the Ballston metro, but the weather was gorgeous. I needed the exercise and for once, I could take the time. So, I decided to walk.
It was so nice to walk. I didn’t feel out of breath at all (although the walk was pretty flat). The breeze was perfect even though it was warm. I was really enjoying just watching the people I passed sitting at cafes outside, or walking their dogs or rushing to where ever people rush to. It was one of those, the roses are sweeter moments.
I kept walking. And I kept walking.
And then I realized – the DMV office wasn’t where I thought it was. After a quick consult with Google Maps, I realized my error and started walking to correct it.
And walking, and walking…….and now I was walking slower because miles into walking on this day, my feet were killing me and my legs were starting to not function well. After passing bench after bench, suddenly I couldn’t find a place to just sit for a minute. The sweat was rolling down my back and face and the sunscreen was running into my eyes. I even walked past a park with no bench!
I looked to see if there was a bus I could catch to go the rest of the way, but nope. Well, I could have, but it would have meant catching two buses that didn’t line up well from a time point of view. It would have meant standing in the sun and taken about another hour and a half. As much as I now hurt, walking seemed like the better option.
I walked slower and slower…..and FINALLY I was there!
I opened the door to find a line. I had to stand in a line just to get to go sit down! Prayers went up to heaven that I wouldn’t fall over and cause a scene. Yet, as much as I was hurting, and sweating and feeling dehydrated…I felt like I was bouncing into the DMV.
I was just so happy to feel so miserable!
I made it! I made it walking to the DMV after all the other walking I’d done during the day, and after it turned out to be so far from where I thought it was.
The DMV has Donate Life signage everywhere. I noticed the license plates you can get for your car that say Donate Life…..the poster on the wall….and I beamed.
No one at the DMV was happy. The customers didn’t look happy. The staff didn’t seem happy. It was stifling hot. There was no fan and it is too early in the season for the air conditioning to be on yet. The windows didn’t open. My blouse was now soaked and my hair looked as if I’d just stepped out of the shower it was so wet with sweat. Yet, I stood in line grinning at everyone. I did it. I was there!
I got up to the “information counter” better thought of as the gate keeper to letting me sit down. I explained why I was there. Without even looking up, the clerk told me I’d need to come with the following documents. (I got the impression no one ever comes with the right documents.)
“I’ve got them!” I proudly announced still grinning so much I could hardly stand myself. She looked up at me, and maybe since I had my long white cane with me she thought I wouldn’t notice, but she gave me a look that told me she thought I was nuts.
Gratefully I went and sat down. I actually said a little prayer that the service wasn’t too efficient because I needed to sit a minute.
My number was called. I was trying to figure out which counter was counter three (heaven forbid anyone tell the lady with the long white cane which counter…as several looked open but were actually closed.)
I was undeterred. I explained to this clerk why I was there. Again, he sighed and told me I’d need to come with the following documents. “Got them!” I announced.
He gave me a form to fill out with the world’s tiniest print on it. (Did I mention I had my white cane with me?) I asked if he would help me fill out the form. Yes, you can magnify forms, but when people are waiting, usually it is faster to ask for help.
“I’ll have to ask my supervisor if I can help you fill out the form.” Okay, I’m thinking, it’s a little thing called accessibility. Normally, I would have felt cranky about this response, but today I didn’t even care. I walked there. I walked there even though I hadn’t planned to and even though it was way further than I thought. I walked there even though it was hot. I was standing there in front of this guy who had to ask his supervisor if he could do the obvious as I literally dripped all over his counter. Stupidity wasn’t even getting on my nerves.
We completed the form together. I’m dreading the photo he took for my ID. I’m sure I looked horrible!
As I gathered up my documents and put them back in their folder, I told the guy at the counter, and by extension his coworkers lined up on uncomfortable looking stools behind the counters, that I really loved people who work at the DMV.
“Why,” he asked?
“Because it is someone like you who helped someone like my donor check that box to be an organ donor.” I explained, “Fourteen months ago I got a lung transplant. That’s why I’m here getting my ID. Without the people like you who ask that question maybe a zillion times a day, I might not be here.”
Dramatic? Maybe, but they all smiled and grinned – every one of them. Maybe they just thought I was nuts. Maybe not. Who cares.
So many things had to fall in line in just the right way for me to be here today. From the family support, to the donor’s family awesome gift to the civil servants at the DMV dealing with all the grouchy people every day at the DMV to check an average errand off of their list of things to do – they all make miracles happen.
Yep, purpose. It can make you feel like fireworks should go off everywhere.
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