On Friday I pushed myself. I was feeling good and temporarily forgot my health is compromised! The mirror doesn't always reveal my health status. So I grabbed the leash, not once, but twice to walk the dog. That was Friday, today is Sunday, I'm still short of breath, have lung pain, and miserable. Saturday the walk with the dog was restricted to five doors south of my starting point. I realized this was the making of a disaster, and turned around after a ten minute rest talking to a neighbor. The dog and I made it two lots north, back toward my home, when I released the leash and let my dog sprint to Hubby on the porch. I kneeled in hopes to catch my breath. Another 5 minute pause. Hubby, who received a dog without a wife, went in rescue mode immediately. He walked down to assist. I slowly made it to the house. That was Saturday.
Today it's Sunday. What's a girl to do? Mostly nothing, while eating nutritiously. When I feel bad, I remember the delicious carrot soup the Senora made me when I was in Cuernavaca. This morning, I made carrot soup. It's healing.
Here's an excerpt from the unedited book version of my 2005 Mexico visit. Just a glimpse of why I turn to carrot soup when I'm feeling particularly weak and compromised.
La Familia – The Family (2005 Cuernavaca)
For twenty four hours
there was so much excitement, I ignored all signs of my worsening
ailments. Thanks to the Curandera, I had slept for several hours
on the Mexico to Cuernavaca transport bus, and that was refreshing. There were lots of bendigas (blessings) once I descended the bus, with a wave, in front of the school campus.
I had packed light, much
was not needed. I had attended the Universidad de IberoAmerica in Mexico City
summer of 1980 and I knew the possible heat that was awaiting me. And, it was a
particularly hot summer for Cuernavaca. My suitcase had 5 sets of skirts and
thin blouses, and three rolled up sundresses with two pairs of shoes. It all
fit in one medium size suitcase.
At the school
registration, there was an oral test. The registrar asked me if I felt okay? My
breathing was labored, and walking was difficult. She hailed me a taxi to my hosting
family. I wanted to lay down and not
move.
My hosts family, a lovely
couple, were accommodating, warm, and full of energy. The universe must know exactly what you
need. The wife was a professional cook
and they were into natural healing. They immediately wanted to feed me. It
became evident that the school director had called the family before my
arrival. I joined two other students, both men. We all met at dinner. I would never be so rude as to miss meals, so
I dragged myself down the flight of stairs that had taken me a long time to
ascend and graciously took a teaspoon of everything served. This was the daily
meal routine mornings and evenings. I joined the others, even though I
couldn’t eat. I nibbled. Also, what became obvious to the family was once I
went upstairs after dinner, I did not descend until the next morning.
We had our own rooms and
I had my own bathroom. I was grateful,
because I showered a lot during my stay. As I mentioned La Senora was a
professional cook. By dinner of day two
she began making me soups, and fruit. My favorite was carrot soup. I had never had
carrot soup before, but it felt so comforting.
She also made me pitchers of iced horsetail tea and iced mint tea. We were not allowed in the kitchen, which was
fine with me, but she made sure I had
filtered cool water in the room. The
room was hot, no air conditioning, but fans, and I slept little for two
weeks. I learned to lie on the bed with my feet lifted
on the headboard. I was trying to get the swelling under control, but it was
stubborn. I showered a lot. It was the only thing that made me feel good. Since
I was up all night anyway, I did my homework, read extra stories from our
reader, wrote elaborate pieces, increased my vocabulary, and studied sentence
structure. My Spanish improved
immensely. That’s my overview of two
weeks in Cuernavaca. It’s also the story
I told my husband - I was still bloated with ankle swelling, but it was
probably just the altitude and jet lag. My host family did not buy that story.
They were looking at me everyday. They
could hear me during the night. They knew I wasn’t sleeping and was forcing
myself to eat at least a little. They knew I could not walk the six blocks to
the school. They really did not buy the
“I’ll be okay.” Matter of fact they
accepted that for two days only.
The first day of school,
I was excited. I love learning. In looking
back at my diary I had noted before this trip, 6 May 2005 'Mother always wants me to relax, but actually relaxing to me is
learning and doing. I am trying to just
breathe! I pray for integrity, honesty and patience and of course an
increase in faith. I believe with these tools, I can conquer all.'
Day one of school, I left
with the guys. I think they were given strict instructions to watch over me,
because they crawled at the same slow pace with me, until we reached the main
road two blocks up a slight incline. I
couldn’t go any further. I convinced them
to continue and I caught a taxi for the last 4 blocks. I tipped big.
I took a taxi home. In my two week of schooling, I only saw the student
cafeteria and lounge twice. The school was a large rectangle with an open air
pavilion, but there were daunting stairs that I knew would ruin my day. The lounge and cafeteria were on the ground floor, my classes were on the second. I could look down over the open air plaza.
I could see the sunshine from the second floor platform, but mostly, I went
directly to a class, settled in, and didn’t move. Between classes there were 15 minute
breaks. I used that time to get to my
next class and recover with deep yoga breaths. Classes were 90
minutes. The students were watching
me. The teachers were watching me. The
school director was watching me.
Day three of the school
was full of surprises. My hostess handed
me a sack lunch, and when I followed the guys toward the front door to go to
school, the host grabbed his keys. The
night before it was clear the guys had already informed them that I was unable
to walk the six blocks to school. At
dinner, the host had casually asked me how much I paid to get to school. I told him
$7.00 with tip one way. It was high
traffic, and I was grateful a taxi driver would carry me 6 blocks when they
could have made a fortune. I watched the host has his lips twitched. Then I realized he was doing the math. So, I was not too surprised when he met me at the front door on day three and announced in a
very fast authoritarian Spanish “I
will be taking you and picking you up daily for $10.00/day” He opened the door and added “That includes tip.” I think he expected an argument. My thought, “What
a deal!” Plus, I was forced to speak more Spanish with him.
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Kathleen Brandt
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