Today I want to go to Musha Cay.
Several years ago, I had an emergency appendectomy. Big drama, midnight surgery… it was odd being wheeled on a stretcher through empty, silent corridors past dark rooms, a bit like suddenly finding myself in the movie Coma, which wasn’t maybe the most cheerful thought to pass out on, but by that point I didn’t care. I just wanted the Bad Stuff out of me.
When I woke up, they brought me Nicola, and then we all went up to a room. The nurse shooed N out the door (it was nearly 3 AM, she was exhausted, and our friend Liz who drove us to the hospital was still asleep in a chair in the emergency room lobby). Then the nurse tucked me up in bed with a contraption that I still, with great fondness, refer to as “the cuffy things.” These are pneumatic cuffs they put on my ankles and calves: the cuffs squeezed my lower legs very gently, alternately, to help keep circulation going and prevent blood clots. They made a gentle wsssh wsssh sound, and the squeezing was like an ongoing massage, and I was warm and full of Vicodin and I knew my dangerous infected appendix was in a dish somewhere far away from me. And I went to sleep.
The cuffy things were unbelievably comforting, to the point they have become iconic for me. Now when I’m feeling tired or stressed, so overwhelmed by all that must be done that it’s hard to focus on actually doing it, I long for the cuffy things. For the feeling of security, of all your problems are somewhere else tonight, you’re safe, just go to sleep.
And Musha Cay is just a Great Big Cuffy Thing for me right now (grin). How wonderful it would be to swoop up a group of awesome people and take us all to a place like this. Where our problems would be somewhere else for a week, where we could play and talk and eat and drink and rest and be alone with the sky and the sea and then be together again.
I figure it’s good to have goals, so Musha Cay is on the list. Until then, I’ll pull out my other comfort strategies. Self-soothing is one of the skills we must acquire early if we’re to survive — we start as kids, with our blankies and teddy bears and all the ritualistic superstitious behaviors of childhood. I don’t have a blankie anymore, but I do:
Cook my mom’s tuna casserole.
Listen to music.
Go to a movie.
Read an old favorite book with a cup of tea and some chocolate.
Take a long hot bath. Sometimes I read in the bath, and sometimes I drink a chocolate milkshake.
Go to the pub. Not so much for the beer as for the journey to the “third place,” where they know me and I feel comfortable, but I don’t have my own problems around me.
Sit by the sea.
Watch the sky.
Those are some of my everyday cuffy things. What are yours? Whatever they are, may they work well for you always, and may you very rarely need them.
Whoa. I’m adding Musha Cay to my list too. That looks amazing.
On the not quite daily stuff, I would include a few hours in the mountains just north of me – which I just put on my list for this weekend. Thanks. Another thing is to just sit and look at the moon. we had a full moon here at the end of last week that rose up all yellow on the horizon. It looked as huge as I’ve ever seen it – the way it can get when it’s just coming up sometimes. There’s a ridge I like to hike up to north of my house where I can sit and see it rising over the lights of the LA basin. But I haven’t done that in ages.
My version of “cuffy things” = traction!! At the time the perfect solution to not only pain, but every other problem I was having. LOL
Of course, the islands don’t seem so bad either . . .
The only thing I’m not sure about is: Do I want to stay at the Beach House and take baths under the moon, or do I want to stay at the Pier House and lay out on the pier at night and star up at the stars? That 360 view at Highview sounds nice to wake up too. Maybe I can just sleep around…
What I love about this particular post is this, ‘When I woke up, they brought me Nicola. . .’ There’s your everyday Musha Cay in a nutshell.
Thereâs your everyday Musha Cay in a nutshell.
Absolutely.
Robin, I gotta say that I’d pick the islands over the traction (laughing). But I’m a big fan of whatever works. Pragmatical, that’s me.
Jennifer, I know, me too… They all look fabulous, although I do particularly long for the view from that pier at midnigh with about 7 gazillion stars overhead…
Yeah, I’m thinking dragging a mattress out there and staying all night on that pier would be amazing. The light at dawn (no, not daybreak) must be pretty amazing there too.
One of the (very few) things I love about the desert is the stars at night. Way out away from the light pollution of the cities, and the air is dry and clear – the stars seem like you could almost reach out and touch them. Haven’t seen real stars in a long time either. Another thing on the list. Sometime in the next two weeks…
I think we need to just – be – under the wide open sky sometimes.
As a kid (past the blankie stage) one of my cuffy things was to sit by one of the several rivers that ran through our town. As an adult, reading Slow River has brought me to that peaceful place more than once.
Funny, as I was writing this I started to wonder why I don’t still sit by a river. I now live in a place where I regularly drive over the river, but I am not not drawn to it in the same way. Yet, I still long to sit by the rivers in my hometown (which is on the other side of the country). It had not occurred to me before that it was those particular rivers which comfort me.
I do have a place here though. Lisa and I love to go our favorite garden on a local campus. It’s small, but has a wonderful pond and tons of beautiful things growing all around. It is a peaceful place and one where we love to sit and relax. It even has a resident kitty.
Cats are another cuffy thing for me – I think they always have been. Even seeing a big cat (lion, tiger, etc.) on TV brings a smile to my face.
Hey Nadina. All rivers are not the same for me either. Sense of place can be so strong, and people can be so particular. I certainly can.
Your campus garden sounds lovely. Nicola and I feel that way about our local park, although there’s no cat there.
I miss our cat so much. He was the best cuffy thing ever.