The bruise bleeds down her forehead, alerting others to her
mishap, her clumsiness. The incident occurred four days ago, while chopping
onions and reaching into a cabinet. She should know better…multi-tasking is never
a good idea. Headaches have become a daily occurrence. Now, almost a week later, her sisters are encouraging her to see a
doctor.
The last time she saw a doctor was when she questioned her
life’s path. It doesn’t happen often, Teresa usually pushes these thoughts from
her mind. She can do that, she’s been trained to be introspective so she knows
when to consciously detour a line of thought.
Here’s how it went:
Teresa is the only woman in the waiting room. She’s nervous,
but not too nervous to notice the pink theme of the room’s design. Pink flowers,
framed in wood hues that lean in that same color direction. Someone has left
half a plastic cup of water on the table. On a sideboard, there’s cookies,
napkins, cucumber-infused water in an attractive glass dispenser. She doesn’t
understand how anyone could drink water like that, so easily, when she’s so
nauseated that the thought of cucumber burps is intolerable. She envies those
who don’t have bodies that betray them in many ways, least of which perhaps
isn’t a breast tumor. She’s so tired of her nerves affecting her thoughts, her
muscles, digestive system. She’s just
tired.
Waiting in the room next to the consultation area, she’s one
of several women who only sport a tiny gown. They all smile at each other, some
just here for a routine mammogram, some here to find out if a growth has
returned. Teresa can’t tell which women have more at stake…everyone thumbs
through the waiting room’s magazines in a bland, disinterested way. She enjoys
being anonymous, not a nun, just another woman at the doctor’s office.
Her devoted parents, in naming her Teresa, insured that her
formal (nun) name would remain the same. This doesn’t always happen, of course,
but the powers that be understood that Teresa needed to remain Teresa.
She dozes while waiting on the exam table. Teresa dreams of
a parallel life. The one that would have unfolded had she not taken Father
O’Connor’s advice and gone into the sisterhood.
Her life could have been this:
Teresa Goodrow’s big brown eyes are a magnet for boys. Her
heavy brows, so cute in childhood, are becoming harder and harder to manage.
Her mother would tell her “what’s to manage?” in admonition for her vanity, but
Teresa wants desperately to fit in, to be like the other girls.
She grows to adulthood, marries. Like good Catholics, Teresa and Mike have many children.
Like good Catholics, they bring them up in the faith, attending Catholic schools and participating in the church in ways other families not as reverent
might skirt in favor of mainstream culture.
Teresa’s life consists of making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,
carpools, bedtime.
Knowing God sees her in those moments that no one else does,
all the private moments, is a comfort instead of a burden.
Teresa’s dream evolves into her current life. Sister
Teresa’s life is vastly different from Teresa Goodrow’s life. Even resting
thoughts are not the same. Is this surprising? Of course not. But it seems even
Teresa’s core personality, who she is and was at birth, has changed.
She dreams of cardinals judging her, of nuns who came before
her, of Hildegard. Hildegard, that amazing mystic from the twelfth century, has
always been a heroine to Teresa. Someone she aspires to…perhaps even the reason
she chose the sisterhood. In her dream, she sees herself in Hildegard, an
impossible descendant, seated in the Santa Maria Maggiore. She sees this even
as Notre Dame burns itself into oblivion, Parisians sobbing in the streets.
When the technician bursts into the room, apologizing for
the wait, Teresa is grateful instead of irritated. She has welcomed this short
dream, allowing her to view a life not taken. She is so happy to be returned to
Teresa the nun instead of Teresa the mother of five that she feels tears
forming in the corners of her eyes. Not wanting the tech to assume she’s
nervous, she bares herself: “I’ve just dreamt an alternate reality of my life.
I’m so glad to return to my real life.” The technician smiles, not really
understanding. Perhaps finding her odd. Teresa doesn’t care. This is one of the
many benefits of her life as a nun…the dismissal of others’ judgements of her.
She relaxes into the routine of the exam, saying a short prayer, thankful to be
Sister Teresa.
