I’ve always prided myself for being a tough cookie; I was a softball player as a kid who graduated to cowboy action shooting and then collegiate shooting. My last job was strapping 1K lbs of equipment to a 2K lb draft horse and navigating him and a carriage through the streets of downtown St. Louis until 2 or 3 am.
The pain in my hips began when I was pregnant and then took a turn for the worse when Colt was about one and immediately became pretty unbearable. I was going to physical therapy 3 times a week and a chiropractor five times a week with minimal relief. When the stars aligned and I had been extended the opportunity to wex (stands for work exchange) here at Dancing Rabbit I figured that digging deep into some farm work was exactly what I needed to help work all my kinks out. The day before I arrived at Dancing Rabbit I was diagnosed with bilateral hip osteoarthritis with proximal cam deformity, which is an expensive way of saying I’m getting old. There’s no working these kinks out.
Fellow Rabbits have come in clutch. Ciaran foraged willow bark for tea. Liz offered acupuncture. Chad gave me turmeric essential oil. My brothers and mom sent various meds. Mark and John have explained what my hip replacement and recovery will be like; I want to “ask for the Birmingham” as if I am ordering my new hips from a hipster speakeasy.
My world started shrinking. I moved to 280 beautiful acres and slowly I was getting to see less and less of it instead of more and more – which is my usual nature. In a village full of so many rugged baddies, my self esteem surrounding my identity as a strong woman began to flail. I started pushing myself because that is how I’ve always gotten through any barriers. I would feel proud of myself during the pushing and then when the deal was done my body would punish me for it. Then about two weeks ago I started falling. At the same time, I had a guest at Skyhouse, River Otter, ask me why I don’t like to cook. I replied that, “of course, I LOVE to cook!” River Otter then gently pointed out that she hadn’t seen me cook in the two weeks we had been living together. I searched my memory and I couldn’t remember the last time I had cooked. I started realizing that my already-less-than-stellar housekeeping had slid pretty drastically. I did some soul searching and determined that I was subconsciously resisting recognizing that I am disabled. Temporarily disabled. On the DL.
I sent an email out to the community, finally ready to admit that I am less. As hard as it is to admit, I knew my neighbors would understand the assignment. My very dear friend Robin came over the next day to “friend sit” Colt and I and do a bunch of chores. Xela makes sure Colt is getting out of the house. K* brought me a potluck plate. Mark went grocery shopping for me. Althea saved Skyhouse’s day by turning over four rooms. The jammers brought music to me. Every morning I have a jar of fresh brewed coffee waiting for me from Sparky. And countless other favors.
I have been reminded that there is a figurative trigger I could pull by contacting DR’s Care Committee. Care Committee helps a Rabbit assess their needs and creates a care team to meet these needs. Christina, encouraging me to not be bashful about calling on Care Committee, reminded me that, “People WANT to help.”
During recent storms a posse was formed in the midnight hour to make sure everyone was ok. That’s so hot.
I’ve heard other Rabbits refer to us as being in the pioneering stage of our development as a village, and although there are lots of kinks left to iron out, we have caring for each other down.
I recently checked out the electric mower, strapped Colt inside the bib of my overalls and went on an adventure reminiscent of the long hikes I took him on as a newborn. I think we saw all 280 acres. We finally got to see the chestnut orchard that was just planted, with trees as old as his newborn friends, Baby Willow and Baby Forrest. We had a beautiful ride, “woo-hoo-ing” all the way. Mommy felt young again. We rolled back to the charging station with two percent battery left.
Life is good.
Kelly Brandt does more things in 24 hours than I can do in a week. The best I can do is look at all the photos and videos of her and Colt that she shares with us and appreciate her life as well lived.