Playing Fair and Being Kind

DEPRESSION

Without hesitation, and not standing on ceremony, a sudden bout of depression arrived. I wasn’t prepared. My morning routine of sipping an Italian roast coffee brew was less welcoming, uncomfortable and a dark mood sat upon my shoulders. I mistakenly addressed it as lingering fatigue from physical exertion; I’d done a few hours of yard work the day before. As I sat, my breathing felt labored. My posture was indicative of a slump, a non-caring outlook. I couldn’t pull my thoughts together. Groggy, half awake, all indications of sloth.

My mind tried to rearrange the pieces of data I could gather from the present. I was recently arrived to the living room. I had my regular cup in front of me and it was filled with coffee, still steaming. I was dressed only in my bathrobe and slippers. The wood stove had a fire in it and the metal was making noises due to heat-expansion. That’s all I had to go on.

The scene outside my window was familiar; tops of trees, no leaves; the white pine across the road was swaying easily. I turned my head to the right and saw that the apple tree was there, bare branches, waiting for the sun to come higher to shine over the house. I raised the cup and sipped the coffee. It didn’t taste very good.

I was sick and I began to retreat. My thoughts turned to triage. The house was not on fire. I was in a safe place. Nothing in front of me seemed to be in danger; the usual clutter of papers and laptop and writing materials, coffee cup. The wood stove was not overheating. I was alone. I took a breath, measuring the sensations of my body inside the robe. I was vertical, sitting, elbows on knees. I swallowed feeling the saliva in my mouth. I located the telephone as well as the cell phone with the important numbers in it. My mind was working all right. I moved my feet back against the chair that I was seated in to be able to stand. With my feet positioned under my center of gravity I pushed up with both my legs and my hands on the arms of the chair.

Slowly I arose, fairly steadily and with gaining confidence. I began to lose consciousness. My brain felt dizzy. I sat back down. Everything was beginning to disappear. I was only able to sense that my body was no longer under my control. I knew not to interfere with gravity. I knew that gravity was the boss and I was simply a passenger. I am a veteran of falling. I am able to keep my skull protected by tucking into my shoulders and using other parts of my body as first-contacts with the ground or anything else that is coming toward me. I was comfortable in my present situation. My most immediate concern was to fix the dizzy brain problem. I took a longer, deeper breath during which I fell back into the chair and came to rest in a convenient position. I took several deep breaths and gradually the brain was clearing. I mindfully held the position that I was in; seated, legs out in front of me, arms resting on chair arms, and my hands spread across each side of my head.

I was gaining consciousness. I remained immobile for a bit. I continued triage. I continued to breath deeply and relax. I determined I needed to dial nine-one-one. I needed to have an ambulance. I picked up the phone and called my barber; I needed a hair-cut. I couldn’t leave the house looking like this. I was going to be o.k. Where were my clothes and shoes?

Gentle George
29 November 2019

The above essay was generated by a piece of paper I found while clearing a stack of books. It was mixed in with other papers. This one was torn from a notebook and was hand-written. I paused to read the words and what I read was the first few sentences of this essay. It stopped in mid-sentence after the words “My mind tried to rearrange”. Why it was titled, “Depression”, is a mystery to me. I left it as-is and then folded it into an episode of pulmonary embolism that occurred about the same time. This is a good example of how I roll. Not recommended, by the way.

Peace,
Gentle George