Unexpected blooms

It's been a funny week. Well, a funny couple of weeks. I've been working as a contractor at HP off and on for almost 8 years. In that job I've worn the hat of agency site lead, writer, editor, business systems analyst, and party organizer.

Today the agency I work for finished up its contract with HP for the work done by me and most of the other contactors. It was bittersweet. I've begun to take my writing to a different audience, and HP has changed into a place that I barely recognize anymore. The peers and immediate managers I worked with are great, and I will miss them - the upper echelon, not so much.

As I was wrapping up things with HP last week, I reinjured my shoulder. I had fallen last October while taking seizure-ridden Alex outside. In an attempt to keep him from falling down the stairs, I took the fall for him. X-rays at the ER showed no breaks so I was sent home with exercises and an ice bag.

The shoulder has never been completely back to its pre-October days, and it's been regressing in the past week. So, I made an appointment with my PCP, Dr. Feldman.

The good doctor is not very traditional. She does "traditional" medicine (with some great holistic advice on the side), but her personality is not so traditional. Years ago, she and I connected over books and our somewhat irreverent, wiseass senses of humor. She's been very supportive of me and my CFS struggles even though she admits she can't fix it.

After we discussed my shoulder, she asked about the CFS and said I looked brighter than the last time she saw me. I told her about the non-technical writing career I'm finding myself falling into and was obviously beaming.

We wrapped things up but she turned as she was headed out the door. "Bloom where you're planted," she said. I smiled and thought about it. "You know how sometimes you'll be walking along and you'll see a flower in a place where there are no others? Or in soil that you never thought would grow anything?," she continued.

"Well, that's you," she said. "Bloom where you're planted." And then she walked away.

It was perfect timing in a week of transitions for me. And it gave me some frame of reference for my 7+ year struggle with CFS. My life might not always be a bed of roses, but I'm somehow still finding a way to blossom.