Fickle Fate

Do you believe in fate?  Every time I begin to lose my faith in fate (yes, you read that correctly) I get slapped upside the back of the head with it.  Yesterday was bittersweet in every sense of the word.  I awoke to the news of the passing of one of the most influential men in my life.  Thanks to "Coach" I was able to graduate with my high school class instead of being held back a year ... or 2.  Even though he was the wrestling coach, we all called him "Coach."  He was the Special Education Teacher and I can honestly tell you that I deserved to be in his 1st period class during my senior year.  He was the one who determined that I had a learning disability, and he was the only one who knew how to get me back on the right track.  He had my IQ tested, I scored in the top 2% of my class (if you know some of the people with whom I graduated, you'll know how high that really is).  My learning disability was "lack of motivation."  I was fine as long as it was music, english lit, history, psychology, speech, or phys ed.  My lack of motivation kicked in when it came to biology, chemistry, algebra, geometry, trigonometry, and showing up to class ... period.  Coach never gave up on me and gave me the building blocks for believing in myself.  And he also showed me, through his own actions, how to give of self.  I will miss his presence on this earth, but I will take some comfort in knowing that he is now back in the position to watch over all of us again.

Being as RSDer, my pain levels are directly affected by my emotions.  I was a train wreck of epic proportions yesterday.  Aaaaaaaand it was Game Day.  Forcing myself under the pelting needles (aka: shower) didn't help my situation.  I could barely get my arms above my head to wash my hair, and all of my clothes rubbed my skin the wrong way ... aaaaand it was Game Day.  I had hives on my face, and all of the veins in both feet were bulging ... aaaand did I mention that it was Game Day?  I slathered my body in Lidocaine cream and put on my brown cat suit (tight fitting capri leggings and tank top), followed by the only capri pants that could fit over the leggings and a cream colored, duster length, ultra soft cardigan.  I was still struggling to get my arms over my head, so I donned a brown plaid hat.  Over a layer of clear Benedryl lotion, I was able to put on the basic make-up ... powder, blush, and mascara, the latter of which I did begrudgingly due to my puffy and teary eyes.  I put on my brown wedge flip flops and put my signature mismatched crazy socks in my coach's bag to replace the flip flops as soon as I got into the school.  Pain (and emotions) be damned, it was Game Day.

I got to the school and went straight to Houdini's classroom, forgetting that 2 of my C Team girls were in his current Language Arts class.  As soon as I walked through the door, my 2 Littles came running up to me for their daily hugs <cue recently suppressed tears> and they told me that they were ready to win for a change.  Luckily the brim of my hat was pulled low enough that they couldn't see me cry.  Houdini, however, didn't miss my trick.  He herded me into the hallway to find out what was wrong.  After I told him about Coach, he asked me, "Why are you here?  Go home!!"  I replied, "It's Game Day and I need distractions." 

Here's where fate kicked my oostakaka ... As I was getting ready to head down to the gym to get it ready for our matches, a few members of the A Team stopped me to ask for my opinion.  One of the girls held out an armful of single crazy socks and asked me to pick her socks for their match.  Another girl said that a B Team girl had sent out an email to the whole team the night before reminding them to wear their best crazy socks for the matches.  Seriously??  I had just dried the last of my tears and snot from the previous emotional outburst!!  Gosh darn those kids!!  Okay, so I got the net up and tightened, the ref stand in place, the ball carts out, and I sat down to write out my starting line-up.  This was when one of my girls got a good look at my splotchy face.  She called the rest of our team over and I had to explain to my 8 girls that I had just lost a "Coach" and the tears came crashing down again.  This was the 1st time that the girls had ever seen me cry and I think it scared them a little.  I told them that I didn't want them to go out and play for the coach that I lost, nor did I want them to go out and play for me.  I wanted them to go out on the court and just have fun.  That was what would replace my tears with a smile ... And they did!!  They lost the 1st game but came back and won the next 2.  Our 1st real win!!  We didn't rely on serves to score points, nor did we rely on the other team's mistakes.  We volleyed for them!!  We talked on the court, we moved our feet, we called the ball, and they did what I needed them to do.  Make me smile.  After our 3rd game I was in tears again, but happy tears this time.  My girls were finally acting like a real team!!

Coach, 

I will miss you but I know you were there with me yesterday, I felt your presence.  I have faith that, someday, I will be to my girls what you were/are to me.  I have faith that you will always be that little angel on my shoulder telling me to have patience and reminding me to use what you taught me to benefit my Littles.  You were always one of the good guys!!

All My Love,

Jenn (aka ... Spaz)    

I am still dealing with the physical aftermath of my emotions, but I have faith that I will have the time later this week to deal with them appropriately.  1 more day of practice before the middle school girls go off for their Eco-Week adventure, so I'll get 5 days in which to get myself as right as I can be when I'm less than a month away from my bi-annual blocks.  I hate RSD, I hate cancer, I hate death, I hate pain, and I hate when I have no control over any of them.  But I love me, I love my girls, I love volleyball, and I love feeling the backhand of fate.