Last night I really did nothing but take a hot salt lavender bath and lie around in a bathrobe and watch PBS shows. I drank hot milk and spent time with David Attenborough and the king birds and birds of Paradise, and with Michael Pollan’s Botany of Desire, with the apple, tulip, cannabis, and potato. Sweetness, beauty, intoxication, control.
And then I slept six hours. (without drugging myself with Benadryl.)
I feel better.
The cat Goodness waits on the back porch and the cat Tiger waits on the front welcome mat.
Outside the green grass is growing, and the dog rolls in the dew, and eats a few crunchy bites for breakfast.
Someone honks in a friendly fashion and I turn and it’s the neighbor Bill driving by and waving. The father of the three small children.
Sleep, grass, friendliness.
I think prednisone and I are ready to gently let go hands. Thank You Prednisone.
I am well enough to make plans for the day, slow, gentle plans. I will try to get to the library. (The internet router died here at the house and I have been offline a few days.) I want to check in with the world, play a round of Scrabble, post these blogs.) I will go by the copy shop.
Tonight I hope to make chicken and dumplings.
Just yesterday I finished what may be the last call and did the last paperwork for my deceased father. Questions from Social Security include, ‘How did I spend the $5000 dollars he received from them last year. And did I save any of it?’
I know if I turn on the news today, I may find that the U. S. Government has shut down.
No Joke.
This was foreshadowed once years ago when my mate and I were coming back from a funeral in Virginia and while we were away the state of New Jersey had closed. Essentially that was the giant sign that greeted you when you got to the border, an arching electronic amber alert type billboard telling you the state was closed. And you think, ‘I live here, can I get back to the house?’ ‘Is the road closed?’ It’s a very weird feeling, and then the teachers and the policemen go without pay and the beaches and parks are closed and there is a simultaneous uproar and silence.
When I go into the neurologist on Tuesday I will be taking the paperwork I hope to copy today and telling her I want the porphyria DNA test. It is Time.
If it is positive, I will say please please get me some heme and let’s save my poor body before it’s too late.
And my family will be helped, at least 2 of them and maybe 4.
And is the test is negative, I might not believe it! (hahahhaha. It could mean error or that it’s not one of those three types but one of the other five rarer kinds). But even if it is negative (and if it is then I will pursue seeing a Lyme Disease specialist) and does not help me, at least I will feel we have kept research and testing going a little bit and if there is someone else out there suffering (as there are) maybe my supporting the testing will help someone else someday get an answer.
We must support progress in these ways.
So I shudder at putting a $2000 test on my credit card, but how will I use my credit if I am dead? And that amount is within reach, it’s not like the plight of the people desperate for new organs or stem cells or treatments that are in the millions of dollars. Oh world, you can be so unfair.
But there is lush green grass coming up, and the sky wants to turn bluer as the days go by. And I know of some daffodils in a field not far away.
No comments:
Post a Comment