FRIENDSHIP and DISEASE -- part 1

Picture courtesy of Ralitza Tchiorniy

                          FRIENDSHIP and DISEASE -- part 1

This blog post is about relationships with friends.  

Social media, or my favorite "Facial Book," a.k.a. Face Book has sucked out any intimacy out of communication with my friends. I can barely keep up with what the short answers to my questions mean. Does "Yes" in a text mean you are upset with me, or we are OK? I have to read the previous text. Should the answer "Let's talk about it!" mean talk about your "Yes" or your "No?" Does "Like" mean anything at all?

In the process of making friends (yes, it is a process,) I learned the rules of the social media and the new way of communication.

Living in a "foreign country" creates its conundrum of rules when creating friendships. What do you keep a secret, what is discussed in public -- I did not know. I came from a European  environment where "Hi! How are you doing?" was a signal to stop and talk about your life, your kids, everything important to you. The friend listens and does the same. After years of living in U.S.A., I realized that no one cares at this stage of the conversation about these details. S/he will be 3 blocks away from you, or 5 text messages away from you, until I finish my response. O.K., I got it. Now, I just say "Hi." I do not even bother to go into the 'what I am doing' part. If I am asked another question, then I know, "It is time for a more involved conversation."

Building a lasting friendship is never easy. It does not mean that the people in the group of two or more have to think alike -- they have to be able to function and understand each other; they need this invisible link, which attracts them constantly regardless of distance and time.

I always make baby steps in building a friendship. I am not the type to have hundreds and thousands of them. What would I do with so many? I will not have time to listen to their success stories, nor their problems. How can I encourage them? I will probably forget their names; I will not meet them daily. There will be no need to talk about "no wrinkles on my pictures" either.

By the way, I chose the giraffes' pictures by Ralitza Tchiorniy for several reasons: they are graceful and beautiful. This is how I see my real friends. We do not discuss our looks. I will always see them looking the way they looked the day I met them. Another part of the giraffes' looks -- they are the tallest living terrestrial animals, who have also the longest necks. When they fight, they smack each others necks. Isn't that what you would like to do sometimes with your friends? Very gently, a smack on the neck... Finally, they have big hearts to allow the blood to climb up the long neck. They fight but not to death. Some "necking" is good enough to determine the winner.  If one of them sees danger, s/he communicates to the other one, then both look in the same direction and protect each other.

Friendship assumed a totally different look when I got sick. I have a sickness for life. The friends changed faster, than me. In the second part, I will introduce you to them.


To be continued. ...

THE WHISTLE IS BACK

                                               WHISTLE, WHISTLE, WHISTLE!!!

Picture by Frank Bryan

First order of business -- my list of medical problems is long. So, instead of working on a standard "bucket list" [as everybody my age], I focus my attention on destroying the little things, the little pains in my head and my body. The big ones are bigger than me. I have to leave them alone. We will wrestle each other as it pleases them. I am not running away.

As a result of a medical procedure to save my life, I was left with a scar on my throat. There was a time when everyone who meets me will talk about the scar first. But, then I will start with the medical procedure leading to it. That would be the end of the conversation about the scar.  The talk will transition to the weather outside.

In addition to the scar on my throat, I feel my voice is different. No one else has confirmed this. Only I know how difficult it is to talk for a prolonged period of time.

It is not pleasant not to be able to sing either. I want to make it clear: I was never a singer, or aspired to be one. But not able to do karaoke while living in USA -- what a biiig loss!!!!!

What was very difficult to accept was the fact that I was not able to WHISTLE anymore. When you are in a wheelchair with unclear prognosis on your future brain recovery, the doctor has to be very strong to take such a question seriously. I wanted an answer, but somehow managed to distract myself and remain with no answer. The whistling landed on the back burner.

You may ask why whistling is so important when I have so many other "problems." I associated it with two major functions. First -- going to a soccer game with my Dad. Whistle is equal to Booo. Second -- during my teenager days, the whistle was used as a signal between you and your boyfriend. A couple has a special signal to connect them. It is like today's texting, only more romantic. Ha,ha! There is even a song about it.

All in all, losing my whistling skills was as tragic as everything else my disease brought onto me. Occasionally, I will try blowing the air out of my mouth with all the proper whistling techniques I have remembered. A month ago, out of the blue, my whistle came back. I was sooo happy. Please make a note: I am not referring to a simply whistle; it is rock songs, ballads, classical music whistle. It was a whole day of whistling.  Then, I lost it again.  Then, it came back again.

This time, I am not taking chances. I will use it sparingly -- only for the Bulgarian love song from the '70s, named "Our Signal." It is performed by the famous Bulgarian singer Emil Dimitrov. This is a beautiful, sad love song about a couple in love and "their signal." While the man was away, the girl fell in love with another man. When he came back to see her, he heard "their signal", only this time she was whistling to another man.

I whistle this song beautifully.