Lone Wolf

Being a good patient when I'm sick has never been a strong point in my character; in fact, I'm usually a whiny, weepy mess when I'm ill, and I've always felt terrible for the people who were stuck with the unfortunate task of caring for me during the times when I'm under the weather. Perhaps in part because I am such a pain when I'm sick, I always try to weather the storm without asking for anyone's help ... hmmm ... now that I think about it, I try to weather most storms, ill or well, without asking for help, quite possibly another flaw of character on my part. Ahhh ... as I often do, I digress ... back to my original premise of being an annoying heap of "big baby" when I'm sick, and especially so if I happen to have a high fever.

For as far back as I can remember, an odd thing happens to me when my body temperature rises ... I see wolves outside the door to my house. If my temp climbs above 100 degrees, I begin to see wolves creeping around my door. They never get in the house, which is a good thing I suppose, but there is always a group of them snarling and growling at me as they try to find a way in. And there is without fail always one particular wolf which my fever-crazed mind focuses on ... a large snow-white beast who is obviously the leader of the pack. He stands away from the group of gray and brown wolves, seeming to direct the efforts of the others as they try to reach me while remaining poised and in control as he stands alone.

Now I'm sure some of you are thinking ... that's it, she's gone over the edge, and maybe you are right. I have no idea why the wolf hallucination occurs only when I have a high fever, but anyone who has ever cared for me when I've been sick with a fever knows about "Terrie's wolf thing" because I talk about the wolves as my temperature climbs. Just ask my sister or my children, and they will tell you ... I see wolves when I have a fever.

I've been thinking for the last week or so about the wolves that inhabit my mind when I am ill, and in particular about the lone wolf ... the large white animal who stands apart from the group. And all week, I've been thinking ... the lone wolf is me. For years, I've taken care of my "pack," raising my three children alone, helping to care for my parents as they aged, being responsible financially for my family. In my 51 years, I've never lived completely away from my pack ... I've always had family of some sort in the same town, if not actually in the same house.

My sons have been out of the house for several years ... Matt and Becca live a couple of hours away, and Brad lives about 45 minutes from me. Meghann has lived on her own for the last couple of years, 10 minutes or so away from my house. But last week, she moved to the town where her new hubby Barrett pastors a church ... a little over an hour from here. I don't know why, but there seems to be a huge finality to Meg moving out of the town I live in, perhaps because she is the last of my kiddos to do so ... or perhaps because she is the youngest. I think I've always handled my children leaving the nest pretty well, but knowing that I have absolutely no family in the town I live in has sort of freaked me out over the last week. I'm the lone wolf ... I even have the same snow-white hair.

Tonight, I have no wise words with which to close this post ... no "so here's the thing" revelations or insights. I think I may need to ponder my lone wolf feelings for a bit, figure out where I belong now, pray that God will soothe my lonely heart. Or maybe ... maybe I should go outside and howl at the moon.