On gratitude

I had a complete physical today for the first time in ten years. I made the appointment a few months ago, ignored it until I got the appointment confirmation call on Monday, and considered being a no-show right up until I pulled into their parking lot. There are all sorts of reasons not to get a physical--most of them related to magical thinking--and physicals are the opposite of magical thinking. Stripped bare, in every way.

The doctor--recommended to me by a woman I know--was small and from Ukraine, and a little older than I. She talked to me for 45 minutes, taking my history in the most casual, narrative way, and then did the physical and ran all kinds of tests--ECG, lung capacity, chest x-ray, etc--for another hour and a half. No judgment about the extra pounds--no judgment about the lacuna of an exercise program. How is it I expect to be chided like a child about these things, even at 44? As if my own body is really anybody else's concern. Which is something to think about, for me.

And it appears--barring a surprise in the bloodwork--that I'm still OK, but for slightly elevated blood pressure, which I attribute to a few points of difficult conflict these past weeks. All of which is either a vindication (of magical thinking) or another chance. The relief I feel... I came home planning to clean this place for company tomorrow, and instead lay down on the couch and fell asleep for two hours. I could sleep for two more, but there's the cleaning yet to do.

My sister and her husband arrive tonight, and we'll pick them up at LaGuardia around midnight. My cousin and her children arrive tomorrow. It all came together at the last minute--my sister only decided tonight to come home--but I felt the little, contented "click" when she called: we CAN do these holidays on our own, but it's a lot of emotional work to fill the space.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends. You're welcome at my table any time.