I’m not sure what it is about these episodes of more active illness, the times when I can’t deny my inherent existence as a “sick person” such as this last hospitalization, that brings about feelings of wistfulness for my life as it used to be, but it happens reliably each time I am hospitalized and released like clockwork.

I find myself looking about my home space at things like my beautiful artwork and remembering the time when artists that created such amazing pieces were people I called friends. I’ve long since fallen out of touch with the makers of my favorite pieces. I suppose it’s the natural passage of time and yet it makes me feel a wistful longing for that time in my life when my life was larger than the confines of my home here at Hidden Falls Ct where I’ve created an oasis for me to settle into now that my disability has become the fundamental driver of how life plays out for me. Back then, life was about acquiring beauty in so many ways even beyond art. It was about having a wardrobe full of the softest cashmere sweaters money could buy. It was about having a collection of the most perfect lipstick shades for my skin tone. It was about having the perfect shade of platinum blonde hair and keeping it up religiously with my every 4 week appointments with that wizard of hair Dana Bannon at Pageboy Salon.

One of my most favorite things to do during that time in my life dedicated to beauty was convertible night time driving. Driving too fast on deserted roads late at night with the top down listening to the most perfectly curated list of music created on Apple Music. I still have that music list. Just cuing it up brings me back instantly to the fundamental joy and the immense feeling of freedom that came along with convertible night driving back then and I can feel a tiny bit of the joy even without the fancy car and the night time adventure. I guess that’s part of the magic of music’s ability to transport you back in time.

Another big part of my life back then was traveling with my travel partner Mary P. With Mary I traveled the world to places including London, Paris, Monte Carlo and more. So many wonders of the world unfolded with Mary at my side. She was fabulous! Always with the perfect outfit. The perfect shoes. The perfect bag. I got a random check in text message from her the other day and it hit me hard. She wanted to know how I was doing. Holy shit! Where do I even begin to answer such an innocent question! It’s so much easier to give my stock answer which is to say, “I’m doing my best.” It’s 100% true and it allows me to avoid going into the tale of my past month of life after having had a seizure and somehow managing to break both legs. That answer is too complex to give. It begs too many further questions about how I handled the surgery, the hospital stay, the rehab stay, the transition back home…All of it! I don’t have it in me to give those very true answers.

It makes me feel a certain kind of way imagining what it would be like to see Mary now. So many old friends ask about coming to visit me and I avoid those visits because Old Fabulous Bethybright who had a life about beauty and freedom no longer exists. She’s been replaced with an old disabled woman who wears black t-shirts from Kirkland Express with her Amazon Essentials shorts every day for their basic comfort. She no longer wears the perfect shade of lipstick. She no longer wears make up at all. Her hair has grown out into her natural gray. She no longer travels the world. She sits in front of her computer doing New York Times crossword puzzles until transferring to yet another chair at the Hidden Falls Home for the fundamentally disabled to stream shows until it’s time to go to transfer to yet another chair, this one her bed chair, where she’ll do a basic stretching routine with her best friend and caregiver Evie until it’s time to read herself to sleep listening to sleep stories on the Calm app until m orning comes and it all starts over again.

Comparing my life now to my life then is a fruitless venture. It’s impossible to do. Things are so very different for Bethybright the Sick and Disabled the comparison has no useful value. That was my life then. This is my life now. Somehow I have to find it inside of me to accept this reality while still keeping my will to go on alive. I somehow have to find beauty in my life without the soft cashmere sweaters. Without the perfect shade of lipstick. Without the perfect shoes and bag. Without the fabulous Mercedes convertible. Without the cadre of artists for friends. Without world travels.

I have to find  beauty somehow. This is my current struggle now that I’m finally home and finally able to get back to normal things like my first shower in over a month tomorrow! Maybe my search for beauty is on hold while I focus so much time and energy on just trying to get back to normal – or what’s as normal as it gets for Bethybright the Sick and Disabled. I suppose that’s why I’m so broken trying to find meaning in this disabled life. I’m still healing after breaking both of my goddamn legs! Maybe I need to remind myself of that fact more often and give myself a damn break. Wish me luck.