Year 72.1

Imbolc                                                                       Valentine’s Moon

rag cutter with bales of cloth scraps

rag cutter with bales of cloth scraps

Starting my 73rd year feeling better. Better, of course, is relative. In this case relative to a lost two weeks. I mean that almost literally. The last two weeks were a fog. I know things happened. I know I did things. But what were those things? Mushed together in a perceptual porridge put through a blender. Indistinct.

Saw the doc yesterday. Left lobe cleared of pneumonia according to stethoscope. None in the right lobe. But wait! There’s more! Yes, another “incidental” finding. Atelectasis in my lower right lobe. Sounds ominous, right? Could be old, probably is. It means that some of the aveoli have collapsed.

When Tabitha listened to my lungs, she thought she heard pneumonia in my lower right lung. It was the atelectasis. So it’s significant. It can be the precursor to other bad things like lung cancer. Hope not. Still, when you consider my history. Smoker in my 20’s and early 30’s. Working in two different factories where asbestos and fiberglass were used. Cutting rags to make fine rag bond paper. I did this last job for a year or so and worked in a room filled with the dust from, of all things, Munsingware scraps from making underwear.

SEX-DRUGS-ROCK-N-ROLL-1”I’ve known for years that something like this could come up. If I could go back and change the choices I made while my chooser was broken (grief, alcoholism, lack of wisdom, plus general youthful stupidity), I would. But, I can’t. In my own vernacular, those problems are bought and paid for. That is, I did things that may cause serious problems for me physically, now, later in life. Can’t deny it, ignore it, or wish it away. It’s not clear right now of course whether this will be a serious issue or not, may not be clear for some time, though I imagine there will be a follow-up CT to more closely i.d. the causes of the atelectasis.

We all have to die of something. If this is mine, well, so be it. Not gonna dwell on it, but I do acknowledge it. I don’t blame anyone, not even myself. My 20s, as they are for so many of us, were a time of transformation, mutation, evolution. I learned so much, felt so much, did so much. There was another path for me through that thicket, many paths, I’m sure, but the one that transpired is the one I followed. And, it may be beginning to have consequences.

In other news Kate’s stent is open. CT proved that. Hopefully today she’ll get a pic line put in and get started on some nutritional supplements by iv. TPN, total parenteral nutrition. This should help her overall and make any surgical procedure, like the feeding tube placement, more likely to succeed. A home health service will send nurses here to set it up. Eventually, I’ll manage it. A step in a good direction for her.

Sun. Blue skies. Black Mountain standing tall. All things that will be here no matter how any of this turns out. And, again, I find this a source of deep consolation.

 

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