I just called my son, “How was your first day of school?”
“Fine,” my 26-year-old choral music teacher replied.
The short conversation meant far more to me than him. But I often live vicariously through my musical child who accomplishes far more in a day than I do in a week.
While I once worried if mitochondrial disease might sneak into the parameters of his life, I don’t waist much mental energy on him anymore. He lives on the third floor of an apartment building and doesn’t think twice about the climb. Ironically, there once was a time I didn’t think about the climb either and high tailed it up mountains just for the view.
However, yesterday I took my walker to Belk’s department store and perused the sale aisles for pleasure. Once home I confessed to my husband that I bought a few dresses I probably don’t need and might even return. But I also reminisced about how calming it was to just be out, moving, taking in a view.
It’s too hot outside and nature hikes are out. But time in a clothing store? It has appeal—mainly air conditioning and flat, open walk ways with a colorful panorama.
But if truth be told, I swallowed a pain pill before I headed out. The pain in my right hip intensifies some days and demands attention. Thankfully, I see my hip surgeon on Wednesday and will finalize a plan. While surgically repairing a torn gluteus medius tendon is not a high-profile procedure, I’m hoping she’ll at least take a look endoscopically and attempt something. My knee’s starting to act up too.
But at the moment my husband is cooking one of our “Hello Fresh” meals and the fact that he willingly creates delicious fare should be earmarked miraculous. Not long ago he refused to attend a simple cooking class.
So, while fall schedules crank up and I feel like a tortoise in a world full of hares, I’ll relish my new $9.99 navy dress, my son who climbs three floors every day, and my husband who can cook. It really is the simple things that tether our souls to hope.
Likewise, every small step we take as the mito community to educate others will eventually line up into one long parade of steps that lead to change. So as mitochondrial disease awareness month and week approaches, don’t hesitate to take a step—especially if just a small one. Ask one person for a donation. Make a flyer for your neighbors. Call a newspaper. Or just a friend.
Together we raise awareness. Together we garner hope.
And we all need hope.
About the Author: Susan Schreer Davis lives with her husband, their cat named, Eggs, and the challenging effects of mitochondrialdisease. Learn more about Susan, her latest book and many songs at: www.susanschreerdavis.com