There’s lots I don’t talk about here on this blog. Anyone who keeps up with both the news and this blog will have noticed how often I don’t mention some major current news story while every once in a while opining on something out of the blue. It’s largely the same with events in my life as well. For every post you can bet there are twenty things I haven’t mentioned and this is usually because it’s just too hard to write about. And I don’t really mean emotionally, just simply requiring some effort. I don’t ever set out to force myself to write about anything on this blog whatsoever. The only thing you see here is whatever just pops out on its own and those things require no effort. Hence the rather chaotic nature of the subject matter around here.

Essentially, I’m lazy, I guess I’m saying.

One major thing I’ve skipped over recently is the thing that’s most responsible for my recent funk. And I’ve been in something of a funk for the last couple of weeks. Now this is largely due to being pretty nastily sick during that time. Ah, the joy of upper respiratory infections. And yeah, the fact that I’m smoking a pack a day hasn’t anything to do with that, right?

But the other thing that’s pretty much snatched the rug out from under my feet for the last couple of weeks is that my therapy sessions with Dr. Fry (not her real name!) have come to an end. It wasn’t a huge surprise or anything and I knew it was coming from way back. In fact, my therapy has very probably gone on a good bit longer than was necessary but with so many major changes in my life a couple of years ago, we decided to carry on a bit more. And really, I do think that it was generally a good idea that we did.

But still, we since come to the point where the sessions just aren’t necessary any longer and in fact rather hamper the progress one has to make on one’s own. Rather like learning any new set of skills, there’s only so far your training can go with hands on. Eventually you get to the point where your instructor has to step back and let you run with it. And then, when the time’s right, go off and find someone else to teach because you’ve got this new thing well in hand. From a practical standpoint there are plenty of people out there who need her help as much as I ever did and she needs to move on and help them. Purely selfishly, there’s much I have to learn that I can only learn moving forward on my own.

All of which is just a lot of blather to make myself feel better. True, yes. All true. But still, stated just to alleviate my distress. I’m still pretty broken hearted. And really, no matter how good your therapist at maintaining boundaries and how wise one is oneself as to resist the impulse to latch on it really is unavoidable, this inevitable attachment. It really hurts to let go of someone in whom you’ve invested so much, whom you’ve trusted so much more than anyone else in your life and who has, if you’ll pardon the ridiculous poetical, lovingly tended so many wounds. I shudder to contemplate therapists who don’t take their professional relationship with their patients seriously and I admit I’m only encouraged to admire this woman all the more.

Really, I could never be a therapist. I’ve seen that job. There’s just no way.

I mean, I’d just seriously screw some folk up.

Buy, anywayz, this was supposed to be just a nice little thumbs up to someone who’s made such a major difference in my life that I hesitate to even attempt to acknowledge it. I just know I can’t possibly do it justice. And yeah, the cynical may say I got what I paid for (and really, it was rather darned expensive) but if I could lay out all this woman has gone through for my sake, none could argue she did it for the paltry pocket change I tossed her way. Not without looking stupid, anyway. Some things money just can’t pay for. There’s just no renumeration for what this woman has done for me and, I’m quite certain, scores upon scores of other young women as well.

What a blessing this woman has been to the world. Here then is one of the miracles that those who despise God so often whine and complain He doesn’t do for them. And yes of course, they’re completely blind to it.

So, doc, let me say you’re good people. And few people are, really, good people. So few bring more into their lives than they take away and few heal so much more harm than they cause. Few heal even as much harm as they cause. And yet you’ve taken on the wounds of hundreds. You, all by yourself, are a testimony to God’s loving care. And I do thank God for you.

I’ve seen you at your less than best. I remember you being grumpy and not at all in the mood to deal with crazy people today, thank you. I remember that ridiculous plant by the window. Mind the plant! Still haven’t the foggiest notion what the hell species that weird thing was supposed to be and after the plant incident I never had the guts to ask. I remember the tic tacs and the rubber bands, too. I remember your getting too personal and telling a bit too much of yourself to me as well. I remember you making your mistakes and that you were never perfect yourself.

But I remember your holding my hand when I puddled on the floor. Waiting patiently, nearby,…but not too close! Until I came back from there. I remember your taking calls at all hours because I needed that. And I remember you firmly (and really, thank you) shutting it down when it wasn’t necessary. I remember the simple observations that snatched the happy, happy, joy, joy right out from under me, too. And I remember you summoning the men in white coats to whisk me away when that became necessary as well.

Perhaps these may seem to some like strange things to praise you for but I know. Because of you I’ve come to understand the bandage, the medicines and the soothing balms are no less good and Godly healing than the application of the hot iron to stop the bleeding in the first place.

No matter what else I might say the fact remains, the truth is and the whole thing boils down to…I’m a thousand times better off for having had you in my life. I don’t even count it as luck having found you either, as I could easily have ended up with you-know-who down the hall. And, btw, what a frightening prospect. Thank you again, my Good Father, for that nice save.

No, I’ve no doubt God led me to you and I thank you, dear doctor, for allowing Him to use you to heal me. As I thank Him for blessing you with that gift and the opportunity to glorify Him through it.
So I suppose I stand with you then and honor Him, praise Him and thank Him for allowing us both to be part of His love. What a good and glorious God He is, yeah?

So thanks, doc. Thank you oh so very much. I do so hope I was able to bless you as much as you have blessed me. I pray that God continue to hold and keep you.

In His name I pray, for you, my dear doctor.

Be well.

And mind the plant.