Wild Berries, Me, and God: An Encounter

“Hey, do you want to take a walk with me and pick some berries?” My husband’s voice breaks through my foggy sleep as the late morning sun plays on my eyelids. They’ve teamed up, my husband and the sun, and they are intent on dragging me out of my warm, comfy bed. On Sunday.

No, I think, I do not. I want to stay in my nice comfy bed, thankyouverymuch. I squeeze my eyes closed, causing my nose to wrinkle. Pulling the covers over my head, I slowly become aware of the familiar pain and stiffness that has wedged itself in my life lately. Two years ago, at the age of forty-eight, I came down with a raging case of mono. On its heels was chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia. Suffice it to say that Life as I Knew It went flying out the window. Pain and fatigue have become a daily occurrence to this woman who once was solid and cut and could bench press a calf.

OK, I’m exaggerating. 

The point is, now I’m bouncing back and forth between Acceptance and Denial. Some days I wear my Strong Woman Super Hero Suit, determined to Fight Fibro and Avenge the Evil It has Forced Upon My Body (think Uma Thurman in Kill Bill). On other days—like this one—I am a Big Baby and Nobody Understands and It Sucks to be Me (think Paris Hilton when she went to jail).

“So, what do you think? Want to go?” I can detect a slight pleading in Keith’s voice. We’ve been married for a long time. I know it’s not about the berries. Please get up and come outside with me. Get some sunshine and fresh air. I want to hang out with you. C’mon, you’ll feel better …

I swallow. Oh, ouch, ouch. Terrible sore throat. Great excuse to turn down his offer, pop a pain pill, and go back to sleep. He’d understand, right? Yeah, well, one thing I have learned in my life is that, when faced with a decision such as this, usually the harder choice is the better choice. 

So, I channel my Strong Woman Super Hero and peek my head out from under the blanket. “OK,” I reply. “Sounds good.”