Butter-Side Up by Jane Enright

Author:Jane Enright
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press

OMG: Am I Butter Side Up Yet?

CHAPTER TWELVE

Changes and Corrections

“It’s only after we’ve lost everything, we’re free to do anything.”

—CHUCK PALAHNIUK

The days, weeks, and months after C’s discharge and Jenn’s death were a complete blur for me.

Simultaneously, I was grieving the loss of my best girlfriend, supporting her family, supervising a team of healthcare providers for Clayton, working with lawyers to settle Clayton’s and my personal injury claims, trying to keep my career afloat, saying goodbye to my sons as they moved thousands of miles away, and, along with Buddy, adjusting to being an empty nester. To complicate matters, I was still experiencing symptoms from my own head injury, including painful headaches I thought I had conquered. Three months after one hundred days in the hospital, I was still the CEO of Everything, managing just about everything.

“Okay everyone, you have ten more minutes to lie on your mat in Savasana. The light in me, bows to the light in you … namaste.”

In the midst of all this I was attempting to carve out some time for myself with something I had taken up years before: yoga. After Clayton’s accident, I made a conscious decision to try and take a class between hospital visits—not to sit on the couch, drink wine, and eat chips. Thankfully the former, not the latter, usually won out, and I lost eighteen pounds during his hospital stay. Moreover, the time I reserved for myself kept me mindful and helped me make some new friends. The studio where I practiced became a welcome refuge from the chaos in my life. As I was coming out of the change room one day, Emily, the instructor, flagged me down.

“Hey Jane, great to see you! I was just wondering … are you interested in going on that retreat with us? I have one spot left.”

A couple of months prior, Emily had noticed me looking at a poster for a yoga retreat in Italy. I had backpacked through Europe in my early twenties, and Italy had been a favourite destination of mine. The retreat was a week at a farmhouse in the beautiful Sabine hills outside Rome; it looked amazing.

“Oh wow, I thought it was scheduled for next year? When is it?”

“It’s this summer, in just over a month.”

I looked at the dates on the poster. It was at the same time I had been trying to organize a trip for Clayton and me. We both loved the beach, and at Clayton’s discharge meeting, his physiatrist agreed a short flight and some rest and relaxation seaside would be okay. Clayton and I were both excited at the prospect of travelling again, but we needed Dr. MacArthur’s consent too.

Ironically, and I don’t think by coincidence, Dr. MacArthur was the physician assigned for my own neurological follow-up later that day at the concussion clinic at the hospital. When I explained to him all the things that I was responsible for, and that I seemed to be going backwards, instead of forwards, he surprised me when he said, “That’s because you are, Jane.

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