Trust Me

Photo Source:  Psychology Today

Have you ever been to one of those corporate training sessions, one where "bonding" activities are part of the very, very long day?  The boss hires someone who has an outstanding personality and a "way with people", most importantly, your boss, and you are all invited to stand up together and fall backwards onto the person behind you, "trusting" that he or she will catch you before you crash to the ground.  The exercise is intended to instill a feeling of trust and complete abandonment of your ability to control what happens next along with, your sense of better judgement.  So, you all lined up.  One by one, in domino style, you all fell down, into the waiting arms of the poor person behind you.  Your boss forked over a few thousand dollars to the "facilitator" and you learned nothing except that you were going to call in sick the next time a bonding event was scheduled.

Perhaps, after all is said and done, the not-so-graceful backward swan dives into the waiting arms of my colleagues, really have paid off.  I've accomplished the task of learning to simply "trust" a lot of things lately. I oftentimes call it "answering the Universe" and I follow the call without much doubt.  For instance, just yesterday, I actually allowed myself to lie down flat on my stomach for an hour while a surgeon, in whom I placed a whole bunch of trust, performed an "Endovenous Ablation" in treatment of some ugly varicose veins in my left leg.  In other words, without asking too many questions, I laid myself down and allowed someone who I had barely known, to shove a catheter which drew a laser into my vein, slowly withdrawing it to seal off the vein forever. The whole procedure, from bee-sting-like shots into my calf, to back in the car, leg wrapped up in elastic, took one hour.  We were back in the car in less time than it takes to do a load of wash.  I am walking like a marionette but I'm walking and so far, all is well.

I will have to wait until tomorrow morning when at last, I can remove the Ace Bandage that is tightly wrapped around my lower leg, underneath the compression stocking, to get a look at what actually happened during the time I was lying on my stomach.  I don't really know what it will look like.  I did not ask. I don't know what the surgeon was doing when he told me "a few bee stings", nor do I know what went on when the lights went out and I had to don dark glasses and a face mask for the last two minutes of the "procedure". I didn't ask.

For all I know, the doctor and his little team, present in the room at the time, might have implanted chips into my leg that would identify me as an alien.  Maybe I'm radioactive.  I could even be carrying illegal drugs for a cartel for all I know.  I didn't ask.  I just laid there and I trusted and I let man tend while I let God mend.

If you never hear from me again, it may be that I have beamed up but trust me, I'll be looking down at you so please don't call me an idiot for not asking.