Sunday Morning at the Rehab

I have gone from feeling forlorn to perky in the space of an hour .... Sunday feels like a lonelier day here in the rehab hospital, lonely because there are fewer people tending you, and because it is a day when families hunker down to do their own thing, which may not include visiting their relations.  The help here feels more distracted on the weekend because my guess is they would rather be somewhere else.
My sadness was coming from a sense of deep separation -- not only being separated from my friends and usual pursuits, but separation in a large existential sense.  We are all really doing this journey alone, separate, no matter how many communities we partake in....  Separation reminds me of living alone and what I now feel deeply are the drawbacks of that solitude.  I have been blowing my horn in a way about how pleased I am to be living an independent life, but under the surface of that bravado is a lingering fear.  Will I depart this life unnoticed?  And, of course, working with the dying as I do, I know that there is no way of knowing the what, when, and how of it.  Uncertainty.  Impermanence.  Acceptance.  Equanimity?  Hopefully!
Yesterday I visited the volunteers who came with their dogs - "pet therapy" it's called ... Many of the people in the activities room were slumped in wheel chairs and not engaged.  But I loved looking at those four legged creatures, all eager to relate, to be petted, acknowledged!  There was a boxer, and a daschund, a terrier, and a Bavanese.  It all reminded me of the time Charlie and I took Francesca to the nursing home in SF and had her visit patients in her beautiful gentle way.  She was born to do that work, really.   It occurred to me that I still miss her deeply.  It's the unconditional love that I want - of course.  And then I think :  can I give myself that unconditional love just as she would have?
Eleanora wheeled me into a shower room, and sprayed hot water all over me and I instantly felt rejuvenated.  The washing away of the residue of the last week or so, both the scratchy grit on my skin and emotional layer as well.  We chatted in the shower about having children, and I helped her scrub my curly hair, which she said she liked.  What a pleasure that experience was.  Hands on care.  Just that.  My wounds were covered in large plastic bags and I nervously stretched my arm away to be extra sure it didn't get wet.  Putting on fresh clothes, and lotion in my hair made me feel human, and lively.  The loneliness is still here but I am not feeling oppressed by it.  When she left my room, I thanked her profusely  for her kindness and hard work.  Now I so clearly understand the depth of gratitude our hospice residents feel for our loving care while they live with us.  I don't want anyone's help to go unrecognized.  It all forms a bridge that I can take myself across .... to a place of ease and self sufficiency finally.
In finding the wonderfulness of a CNA's attention today I was able to dispel the bleakness inside.  Or perhaps I was able to hold that bleakness with love.