Imbolc and the waning Megillah Moon
Monday gratefuls: Rigel and Kep, here with me. Kate and her struggle. Swedish E.R. Lea, Kate’s nurse yesterday. Ruby, dutifully moving me up and down the mountains. Roads. Vaccines. The stimulus bill passing the Senate. My ancient friends and a soulful Sunday morning yesterday. Kate’s sisters.
Sparks of Joy: Thor, Jude’s (next door neighbor) Australian shepherd puppy. In fact, I’ll give Thor two sparks. A Dalmatian puppy I saw sticking its head out of a pickup on the way home. My own sanity.
When I saw Kate yesterday, she was still in pain, a headache adding to the mix. Unusual for her. At one point she thought she might be in Andover or Conifer. I was to sleep on Rigel’s couch, which was right there, she said. That got me concerned so I called the nurse.
A CT scan of Kate’s brain showed no clots, bleeds. No stroke. Conclusion was that an anti-nausea med, stronger than her usual one, caused temporary confusion. Good to know. She is, the nurse said later in the evening, oriented, normal now.
When I last communicated with the hospital, the scan for a possible clot in her lungs had not been done, though scheduled later in the night. Sometime around 11 am MST, there should be word on what the plan is. I’ll let you know
I’ve gotten good sleep the last two nights, feeling better rested. Though tired anyhow.
This hospital visit has me concerned. Not that the others didn’t, but this feels different. The ambulance and the paramedics. The confusion in the hospital. The inability of the docs to find a cause for her distress on Saturday. She said while in the E.R., “Dead would feel better.”
I intend to keep putting one foot down, then the other. Not to get lost in maybes and what ifs, stay in the present as much as possible. Do what needs doing. Come up with some more cliches to describe keeping on with keeping on.
Stimulus plan passed the Senate. That’s a win for Biden, for Dems, for the U.S. I wish Democrats could wield the sort of party discipline McConnell achieves for the GOP. In a 50-50 Senate the whip is the most important figure. Dick Durbin is important.
The Chauvin trial is imminent. That should give a boost to the voting bill, the police reform legislation. What will it be like in Minneapolis? Don’t know. My old home metro. 40 years. Feels weird to be gone during such an important moment in its history.
Meanwhile, SpaceX landed a Starship. It exploded afterward, but the landing was enough to declare a success. Perseverance has begun to roll across Mars, sending back spectacular photographs.
Life continues, no matter personal circumstances. Though jarring, this fact is also reassuring.
Golden Solar picked yesterday morning to come and replace two microinverters that have been dead since our solar installation. The inverters report to the makers of our solar panels and we can download the reports through our own webpage. They have nothing to do with actually producing electricity. I’ve been asking them to do this for almost five years. Why now? No clue, but I’m glad it’s done.
Unless it died in the radiation bath I had over 35 treatments. With the Lupron now gone, the cancer could have begun to grow again, but this test results suggests that it didn’t. That could mean that the radiation did in fact kill the cancer that had reemerged.
I’m planning a celebratory meal anyhow. Probably Sushi Win. I’m cured until I’m not. That’s the way I want to think. Not always possible, but it’s my goal.
Part of it is not easy. How do you integrate the fact of losing capacity? When you can no longer do the things you loved? Like sewing. Going out to eat. To concerts. To sewing groups. To synagogue. Like walking easily across the floor or upstairs. Yet her mind remains sharp. Crosswords still come easily. Word finds. Solitaire. Dissing Trump.
Life continues, no matter. Until it doesn’t, of course. That is, even when an evil bastard like Trump is in office, we still have to eat. When a rampant virus rages, we still have to sleep. When a family member is ill, we still love each other, support each other. Life is a miracle and wasting it, well, please don’t.
No matter how proximate or distant disturbances in the force, science goes on, literary folks write books and articles, the past remains a source of inspiration, and the future a source of hope. No matter whether life has meaning or whether it is absurd (as I believe) the secondary effects of this strange evolutionary push into awareness persist. And, yet they persisted.
Mt. Evans and its curved bowl continues to deflect weather toward us here on Shadow Mountain. The light of dawn hits Maine first, as it has for millennia. The polar vortex slumps toward Minnesota.