Saturday
Well, I actually slept last night. Yesterday I felt like a zombie because I had gotten maybe 2-3 broken hours of sleep in the previous 48 hours. The geniuses that developed the colonoscopy prep had me take the goop at 8:00 p.m. the night before the procedure. No sleep that night.
Then the night after the procedure, I probably got even less. Very weird because they had pumped tons of pain killers and sedatives into my system during the procedures. I laid awake all night worrying and awoke to horrendous stomach cramps that are still continuing. I called them to ask if that was normal, but they couldn't be bothered to call back.
So the procedures hurt like fuck and they found a myriad of issues and took samples to biopsy. I feel like my insides are just rotten and it's a revolting feeling. I also can see my physical condition as a metaphor for my life: everything is collapsing because I have so little support. The seat of my creativity will be removed. I can't stomach this country, things are stuck in my craw, I have swallowed so much for so long that it has destroyed my guts.
I am deeply saddened and outraged by the crazy, craven shit that the Repugs are doing. I am so afraid for our country. I do not see this ending well.
OK, enough. I know this is whiny.
Yesterday my gut hurt so badly, I wasn't sure I could go out and walk my dog. I debated until the moment Charlie drove into my driveway, and then I decided to risk it. We took a looooooong walk, and it was good for me. Spent the rest of the day puttering about the house in a total daze. My house smelled pretty fine as I made my cough syrup: the syrup contains wild cherry bark, cinnamon, ginger, hyssop, red clover, comfrey, valerian, mullein. My cough syrup is ready to be reduced but I think I will wait until my neighbor Matt gets home because I want to buy some of his honey to complete the syrup.
I spoke to Matt's wife, Nisa, for about 2 minutes yesterday. I haven't seen her in months, as her father was in the hospital here for four months following a liver transpant. Butte had Hep c that he got from a blood transfusion. He was moved up north near his home a couple of weeks ago to hospice because he has had ongoing infections and he wants to die. Nisa was going up to help her mother go make funeral arrangements and she is hoping that Butte passes this weekend. So damned sad.
Other neighborhood news: a young woman is moving into a house two houses away from me. The last person in that house was a horrible old man, so this is a great improvement.
I am giving my family some of my stuff for Christmas. I have bought plenty of things for them, but am passing along a cast iron pan and am trying to reframe some fanciful pictures for the girls. I have a lovely, charming ink painting of a magical zebra that my grandmother made and I want to give it to Reese. Unfortunately, it is a weird size and I cannot afford custom framing. I am going to look in craft shops on Monday to see if anything will work.
Anyway, I like this idea because I can get rid of some stuff and pass some unique things on.
Finally, a friend turned me on to Octavia Butler and I am listening to The Parable of the Sower. OMG, this book, written in the 90s, is incredibly prescient. It is set in southern California in 2024 and it paints a very dark, dystopian, believable story.
I think I was lulled into some kind of complacency in the 90s because of Clinton and because I was working so hard on my recovery and delighting in witchcraft. I wonder if Butler had more of a realistic notion of what was going on because she was black.
I am headed over to my daughter's soon, so I will stop this maudlin rambling. We are going to eat soup and decorate the tree. And just to keep things light, I am taking my advance directives over there so some of their many friends can witness the papers. The docs here are very into the advanced directives, so I want to give copies to them.
Enjoy your weekend.