A Spoon, a Dog and Rose Colored Vision: Insights Galore
Sometimes, the strangest things come about and through them, we gain insights on topics that we did not even realize were important or valuable or useful. Three such insights recently revealed themselves to me (they say things come in threes, a phrase I never quite believed) and I have been itching to share them — because I hope it inspires others to see and name insights they have or to engage in situations that encourage insights. And, one is never too old to have new insights. Indeed, insights become a part of who we are and as we age, the wisdom we hope we acquire.
The Spoon
Risking TMI, I had a biopsy of a lump on my back. (It was not my first biopsy and I am sure it will not be my last and with the results now in, I am fine thankfully.) It was what is known as a “punch biopsy,” and it needs to be newly bandaged every day for several days and yes, there are dissolving stitches. One the first day, there is even a “pressure” bandage to keep things in place.
I went to a dermatologist I didn’t know (long story there and I am seeing my regular amazing dermatologist next week as the new one I saw was far far short of amazing).
I didn’t reflect ahead of time as to where the actual punch would occur but low and behold, it occurred in a place on my back that I absolutely could not reach. Whether using my left or right hand behind me or over either of my shoulders, I could not get to the bandage.
The nurse suggested that I keep it on for an extra day and then shower and hope it would fall off. Someone else suggested I go to Urgent Care. I did not want to ask friends (I forgot that one friend was a nurse years ago). I am widowed and at present, I live alone (having had several amazing men in my life since 2020).
I was sad — realizing that I really was alone. I was having a wee pity party when I got home. I had a “hole” in me that was beyond my reach — literally and figuratively. In the midst of that mood moment, I had a sudden change of spirit. I focused on all those who use adaptive tools to make their lives manageable — folks who use everything from braces to lifts to special utensils. Remarkable people and remarkable inventive tools. There are hundreds of them available.
So, I thought to myself, OK, come on here. This isn’t a major thing. Just ponder how I could get to this bandage. I first thought about tweezers. Too small. I thought about a fork. Too sharp. Knives were out. Too dangerous and I am not all that good with knives and blades when I can see them.
Then it dawned on me — I had special blue long stemmed spoons. They are glorious looking and they make stirring in glasses a time for art. They are smooth; they have no sharp edges and beautiful curves. Yes, we use spoons to consume soup and to mix ingredients. We use spoons to deliver sugar to our beverages.
But, I used a long stem spoon to remove and then place salve (on the convex side which was perfectly shaped) and a new bandage. The first go-round wasn’t easy or graceful but the old bandage came off and the salve and new bandage were installed (a tad off-kilter). Each day, my spoon skills have improved and as of today, it isn’t such a burden to change the bandage alone.
And here’s the insight: creativity can arise in many settings and it is surely not limited to art. If one can move past the freeze that fear engenders, one can actually be inventive and bold and solution-oriented. And, even though I am alone at present (more on that in a minute), I found a solution. I adapted. I managed. I was proud of myself.
I shared my spoon story. One person (along with me) said it made them smile. Another said: see, that right side of the brain can do wonders. Amazing friends. And speaking of friends, let me transition, no offense to humans, to my dog.
My Dog
Dogs can be remarkable supports but they surely are not suited to removing bandages carefully. They can’t put on new bandages. But, I was struck by a recent piece in the NYTimes about the role a dog can play in one’s life. This piece is touching and well-worth reading whether you have a dog or not. Dogs are there for you through thick and thin. My dog, like the one described in this article, goes with me on dates (OK, sometimes he just waits patiently in the car — assuming it is not hot outside.)
While men have come (and gone) since I have been widowed, my dog has remained a constant. And, he joins me in a king sized bed (whether I am alone or with a partner — don’t ask how the latter goes over). He spoons like a person (another use of the term “spoon”). But, I often look at my dog (my basset hound named Wrinkles and pictured below) and say, with a smile, “I hope you are not the last man to sleep in my bed.” And he just looks at me with those soulful eyes as if to say: I am here and you are not alone even now.
Good insight. Positive. And, speaking of positive, I now turn to the last of the three items in the title to this posting.
Rose Colored Vision
I have written recently about my eye surgery and some of the complications and remedies. I was at the eye doctor again a few days ago (and the surgeon and the eye care docs remain remarkable and patient and gentle) and had an ultraviolet treatment (another long story) and left feeling fine. But, that night, everything I saw had a pink, rose colored hue. Lights on the street and on cars and in my home were pinkish. The rooms were rose-colored. And while my bedding is actually rose colored, it was as if I was in some strange world. It was as if I was wearing rose colored lenses. (We know that expression.)
I reached out to the doctors and within an hour, they emailed back that this is not an uncommon side effect (who knew?), and it would remediate itself within a few days. And, over the next 24 hours or so, my rose colored vision disappeared and I was left with my “normal” non-rose colored vision.
But, there was something odd about that period of rose colored vision. In some ways, it mirrored how I see (and want to see) the world. I am, generally speaking, a glass half full person. And, the rose colored vision was actually a good thing — reminding me that in our crazy world filled with awful things and meanness and war and death, there are good things and good people and that observation is well worth retaining and keeping at the forefront of our individual and collective minds.
Insight Conclusions
Bottom line, a spoon and a dog and temporary change of sight into a pink rose colored hue have collectively and individually reminded me about moving forward, being positive and the import of being surrounded by people and pets who matter. While no one wants a biopsy and no one wants one’s vision to be distorted and no one wants to lose a spouse, having experienced all three has given me insights I hope and think will stay with me.
So, my advice: get a spoon, get a dog and get temporary weird rose colored vision. Only half kidding. Seriously, all three are helpful in ways I never articulated or named with sufficient frequency. I have always said believe in the power of the possible. I can add to that: believe in the power of the positive.
Note: A special thank-you to Drs. SM and VY and to my many friends including JC and LC and CM and EW, all of whom enable me to envision and experience positivity. And to GK, your track record for being correct is unparalleled.
