Summer and the Summer Moon Above
Tuesday gratefuls: Amy. Mile High Hearing. My hearing aid is back. Labs. Gamma globulin. Luke. Leo. Dr. Gonzalez. Tara. A great workout. Friends. Charlie H. Sadness. Arjan. EE. Working on electric planes. Bright Sun. Energy from the Great God Sol. Fatigue. Cancer. Worry. Trust your doctors. Kate. Whose memory is a blessing. Ruth and Mia. Gabe. Writing heals.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Writing
One brief shining: This green coffee mug the one with the Nicollet Island Inn stamp comes from our 25th anniversary dinner there celebrating that night after our wedding we spent in a room at the Inn before checking onto Panam flight for Rome and the Hotel Internazionale at the top of the Spanish Steps. A sweet and precious memory.
Writing heals. At least for me. Yesterday got my lab results back and they don’t look great. Low gamma globulin. Could be an early sign of leukemia or multiple myeloma. Could be other things, too. None of them welcome. They came in just before I took off for dinner at Tara’s last night so I hadn’t had time to let them sit, absorb the shock. Was gonna do that when I got back, but Tara asked about my health and it sorta spilled out. With my worst fears and least considered thoughts. I’ve known Tara a long time and I trust her a lot on the emotional level. Otherwise I might not have talked about my worry. But I did. Felt bad about throwing that in at the end of a dinner party.
As I have learned over the last couple of years plus since Kate’s death, I’m most able to deal with upsetting information on my own, in my house. The phrase that echoes is: the hits just keep on coming. From WLS Chicago radio of the 60’s. I have a way of recentering, gaining perspective when at home by myself. I’m not saying I repress or deny. No. I am saying that I can step up to the day, or night as it might be, and say this right now is where I am and what I have to deal with. Yes, later there may be something else, but I will face it when or if it comes.
This day is sufficient unto itself. I can live in no other place, ever. Today I have to retrieve my errant hearing aid, have breakfast with Luke and get my chart reading from him, then work on Herme in class tonight. That’s what Tuesday is. I’m living this day.
And this. Death is not an optional experience. Whether it comes now, in the next few months, or the next few years. No medical report, no illness, no treatment, no doctor can change that. I’m ready if it’s today or ten years from now. However, as I’ve said, I’d prefer to wait. Even so. No amount of worry or fussing can do anything except make that day more difficult, more fraught. I refuse to die unhappy with the length or quality of my life. So I won’t.
