Color Me Done!

I have been poked and prodded, studied and examined, from head to toe—well almost. Within a very few weeks, I have been to the cardiologist, the dentist, the endodontist, the podiatrist, the ophthalmologist, and my family physician. I have worn a Holter monitor, had a mammogram, learned that my eyes aren’t as good as I thought and rechargeable batteries are no longer available for my hearing aids. I have had blood drawn and, today, a root canal. I am through, I tell you---through, through, through!

Mostly, the intensity of my medical update is my own fault. During the omicron surge, I cancelled appointment after appointment. When it comes to medical matters, I am not one to do it today if I can put it off till tomorrow. Eventually, of course, my conscience catches up with me—along with a little voice that says, “what if?”

Anyway, today was the root canal. I will not lie and say I was not nervous, because I was. Afraid of the fear and anticipation. I would not want to have the procedure often, but it was painless—just a lot of lie still, don’t move, and don’t’ swallow kind of stuff. The doctor was kind, the set-up incredibly efficient and professional—and now it is behind me. I am so grateful.

I read a blog today by an author who is a good friend. We’ve never met, but we’re Facebook friends, and we agree on a lot of things. Today she wrote about distraction in these difficult times—how hard it is to write. I really found that true these last few weeks when I was so occupied with medical matters—and dread of the root canal. All that seemed to pile on top of Ukraine trauma and global worry, for what Putin has done attacks not just Ukraine but the balance of the global system.

I think most of us, at one time or another, think what’s the point? What’s the point of putting one foot in front of the other, if the world as we know it is going to end? Oh, I’m not talking about nuclear holocaust, though that possibility looms on the horizon again as it did in the 1950s. I’m talking about a change in world order—from democracy to autocracy, Fascism, dictatorship, whatever you want to call it when a handful of the entitled rule and have all the wealth while they make life miserable for the rest of us. As a person of faith, you can’t tell me that is what God intended for our earth.

We see all the danger signs, the biggest of course being the ongoing brutality in Ukraine. But never overlook the small warning signs here at home—book banning, laws passed by the states that over-ride the Constitution and a Supreme Court that seems inclined to look the other way, the denigration of public education in favor of charter schools, the overreach into people’s personal lives, be it their reproductive life or their parenting of trans children.  It’s all very scary.

The blog I read today gave me pause about one thing: the cozy mysteries (hopefully humorous) that I write seem so insignificant, so trivial in the face of the world situation. But neighbor Mary reassured me tonight that people need the distraction, they need to escape to another world. And heaven knows, as an author, I need that other world too.

So tomorrow, I begin again after a hiatus, putting one word on top of another until, the Lord willing, I end up with a novel. It’s a challenge I’ve issued to myself.

You too, no matter what your life consists of, can put one foot in front of the other. And then contribute in whatever way you can to support the people of Ukraine, to fight censorship and authoritarianism here at home. None of us can afford to sit back in complacency.

Remember the words of William Faulkner in his 1949 acceptance speech at the Novel Banquet in Stockholm: “I believe that man will not only endure. He will prevail.”

Preaching over.

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Caught on the medical merry-go-round

Over the weekend, Jordan and I came to the difficult decision to postpone our Great Lakes Cruise – we were to depart Thursday. I simply didn’t feel well enough to enjoy a cruise—who wants to go on a cruise when they can’t look at food? —and it seems more important to find out the cause of my malaise, malingering, whatever it is. Accordingly, I emailed my doctor and Jordan began cancellation plans.

My general practitioner had said all along he wanted me to be seen by a gastroenterologist, and first thing this morning he said he was working on that. Last week when I asked about the cardiac medicine, he said I’d have to talk to my cardiologist. I left calls for his nurse Thursday noon, Friday morning, and again this morning. About two-thirty this afternoon, she called and in a chipper voice said to discontinue the med in question and let them know if my heart rate goes over a hundred. Simple as that.

There are a lot of “what if?” questions embedded there. What if they had returned the call Thursday? The trip would probably be still scheduled. What if the general practitioner has called the cardiologist? He’d have surely gotten a more rapid response. As it is, I can’t change mental gears fast enough, and, to me, it is what it is and what it was meant to be. I will be grateful to feel better and to know there is not some terrible underlying physical cause. I am grateful to know it wasn’t “all in my head” (we discussed that) nor because I’m not an easy traveler). One of my many faults is that I’m so willing to blame myself that I sometimes mask real illness as a weakness, a “just not feeling right,” and to determine, as I did in part this time that I just need to gut up and give myself a lecture.

A little corner of me is proud that I kept insisting my symptoms matched those for digoxin toxicity. Twi in one week I was right—about the fungus on the lawn and about my own body. It may go to my head!

Still not sure we’re giving up on Labor Day weekend in Chicago for the four Alters and their mom. Meantime, I have this lovely gap of time to fill—what really, do I want to do with my career? How do I really feel about turning eighty? All psychological hobbledygobble is off the table, and I have a novel to promote, a cookbook to proof, a life to live.

And a wonderful trip to anticipate for next spring.

Now may I please get off the merry-go-round? If you have questions or comments, please direct them to me, not Jordan. She has enough to deal with given her job and the start of school. Thanks, friends, I feel the love.

Nothing new

No blog tonight or not much of one. It has been an uneventful day although productive. Home all day, working on neighborhood newsletter and novel and moving ahead nicely with both. I’ve had a brief visit from Jordan, who is not feeling well and stayed home all day, and a slightly longer visit from Jacob who came out this morning to retrieve his leftover pizza from last night and again this evening to take out garbage and do a few “straightening” chores I needed done before tomorrow morning when a video crew arrives to film me for a promotional video for my hip surgeon and his hospital. More about that after the fact.

The video should be fun, but I had other lessons today in how medical problems take up my time. I had an appointment already to see my general physician about a spot on my back that I fear needs to come out—sent a photo to the doctor, and he said to come in and they’d remove it So today I called to ask if they could also do my clearance for eye surgery at that appointment, and I ran into what I think of as the reception-area block. Oh, no, the doctor couldn’t possibly do that. He’d look at the spot and if it needed to come out, I’d have to make another appointment, and he couldn’t possibly combine it with the surgical clearance appointment. I’d have to come in one day for blood work and then come back for the exam. Let’s see—that’s five appointments, right? I explained that I cannot drive and must rely on others and that was a lot of doctor appointments and a terrible imposition on those who carry me around. The receptionist reluctantly said she’d explain to the doctor and ask if it was all right. I told her he was more than familiar with my situation—I’ve spent half the fall in his office, for pity’s sake—he’d need no explanation. She called back with word it would be okay.

All this came about because my eye surgery is now scheduled for December 21. Awful close to Christmas, but I guess it will be fine. I have mixed emotions—want it done in December to get it off my mind and to roll it into other medical expenses for this year since I think I’ll qualify for the medical deduction, which may well go away next year. But having a definite date gives me the willies. Yes, I want it done and over with. Last night I couldn’t read the menu or the bill in a dim restaurant, and then, because my depth perception is off, I poured wine onto the counter instead of into the glass.

But other than these non-adventures, to me it’s been a day to make my heart heavy. The congressional vote for the tax bill was not unexpected but it still hurts—it will hurt me, but it will hurt a lot of others much more, and I worry about the poor and sick. Congress has struck a double blow—taxes and health care, and Paul Ryan is jubilant. Betsy DeVos has taken away protections for disabled students, and 45 has struck down the ban on importing ivory, thus opening the way for poachers and his own big-game hunting sons—another of his distractions from the Russia scandal which tonight threatens to engulf Jared Kushner. Al Franken has been accused of harassment; he apologized and called for an investigation of himself—but the Republicans are out for blood. I’m sure outspoken Franken has been a thorn in their sides all along, and they see a chance to get rid of him.

And they may be concerned about Roy Moore—he would be an inconvenience, after all—but are totally unconcerned about all the women who have come forward again today to accuse 45 or about 45’s own braggart confessions of groping and other gross details. The hypocrisy on Capitol Hill is appalling.

I echo the blogger who said tonight he is deeply ashamed of his country. Where have these people come from? How have we sunk so low?

I hope to have my optimism back tomorrow, but now I’ll just say goodnight. Try to love each other and pray for our enemies within.