100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 44

Breakfast:  Lean Cuisine dinner, pecan chicken something, I think
Lunch:  3 natural hot dogs, mustard, canned beets
Dinner:  Cashews, 2 crackers with peanut butter on them

I spent today using as few calories as possible.  Both of my legs hurt from all of the walking this weekend.  Swollen and sore, joints and muscles.  So, it seemed to be a good idea to not eat very much.  I am not counting calories, but I have done so for most of my adult life, and I estimate that there were somewhere around 900 of them in today's foods.  That seems close enough.  I could check, but then I would have to use some of those calories to haul myself out of this chair and go look.  Rats.  I just checked and it was 1150 calories.  Too many to even think about having lost any tonnage.  Even though that, the weight, is not supposed to be my focus, it is disheartening to find that today was most likely, at best (a hopeful best), a draw in the in and out department.  F.  (I am trying to not curse.)

Tomorrow is not going to help any.  It is a day of volunteering for the big city near me.  It is part of their summer employment training program for young people.  We did all of the interviewing weeks ago and their training began today with a week's worth of orientation.  I have not any idea what they did today, but tomorrow is like a job fair, if you know what is.  Each of the tables/stations will not be hosted by potential employers, but with information and help related to finances, how to choose a job category (like that is even possible these days, but bless their hearts for building the concept into the program), and all of the expenses that are part of living.  Housing, health care/insurance, vehicles, clothing, household expenses, families, pets, the whole works.  They will have to set up an actual savings and checking accounts with representatives of a local credit union (like a bank), do the paperwork for a 401k account and a lot more.  It should be interesting, especially since they did not notify the volunteers that they were chosen to participate (that would be me and other hapless souls), and aside from arriving a half hour before the participants, there does not seem to be any training that I can tell. 

They are going to give us a light breakfast, whatever the hell that means.  My guess is that it will be coffee and donuts.  My guess is that I will try to get up extra early and make some eggs, or that I will dilly-dally and have to drive-through for some more of those yummy breakfast sandwiches and a big, steaming cup of fairly decent coffee.  Honestly, tomorrow is laundry day, so it is more important to get a load running before I leave home.  There is a lunch offering, but I am guessing that it is more of the same sub sandwiches, chips, cookies, canned soft drinks and other snack things.  So, I will probably be skipping that as well and getting one of those great salads from Wendy's.  I hate to miss that part, though, because sitting around with the other volunteers is a great resource opportunity for me.  Those people are all professionals and I have much to learn from them that could help me with my clients. 

It really is a surreal experience.  There they all are, HR people, executives, radio personalities, and then there is me.  The same thing used to happen to me when I was part of the RIF (Reading is Fundamental) program in the elementary schools in another big city near me.  Doctors, lawyers, police officers, bank officials, veterinarians, businessmen of all kinds.  Then, me.  I am hoping it means that they keep asking me to do these things because they believe that I have something to offer, but it is very humbling to be in the company of such important people.

I should have enough time to come home, toss in more laundry, maybe heat up another of those frozen diet meals and get going to pick up one of my women, who has a doctor's appointment in the afternoon.  Then home again, to shower, wash hair and do one last load of linens, since I am nearly out of clean towels.

On a more personal note, something sad happened today.  The woman who owns the gallery has been expecting some important mail and was not certain if it would come to her place here or the one in another state, which is where she is now.  Something did come last week, and I called her to let her know that it was there and had to leave a message on her voice mail. 

I hate voice mail.  You never know if someone is going to check or if it actually will be there when they do check or some damn thing.  I do not have it, so I always figure that no news is good news, which in my life is pretty much the case.  But, she does have it and she was concerned and I called and left a message.  She did not call back, even though I left my phone on until after midnight.  She knew that I was out of town, but did not call in to ask for more information, which, frankly, I would not have had because I did not open the mail.

This afternoon I heard my phone beeping and when I checked, there were two messages.  Apparently, my friend was not able to reach anyone who could check on the darn mail (there are four of us) and was frantic worrying about what it was.  So, being the good boyfriend that he is, her boyfriend (I digress, but I love that us older babes can still have boyfriends and actually call them that.) called my cell phone and left a stunning message about how upset she was and then made a couple of mild threats.  Yeah, stunning.  I was guessing that the second message was also from him, adding the few things he might have missed saying in the first message, but it was from my friend, who assured me that I had done the right thing and not to worry.  This was later followed by another call from her, where she raged about all kinds of things and the bottom line is that I was the recipient of a whole bunch of frustration about a whole bunch of things. 

I think I have to be finished there, at the gallery.  I am not looking forward to seeing her boyfriend again, although I will miss seeing her.  I have Thursday off and think that I might take the morning to gather my work and leave my keys there.  She is in another state and I am the only person who keeps the gallery open during the week, so I will not risk running into anyone.  This is all too complicated and today was kind of scary.  No, it was a lot scary and I have enough to deal with in my own life, without taking on the pathology of another relationship. 

I am really going to miss going there.  I like welcoming people and talking about the art there and just art in general.  I like having my stuff there and having people like it and sometimes buy some of it.  Yeah, that extra money is nice.  It paid for most of my traveling.  I will miss the other artists and the, gosh, so wonderful discussions we have, and the musicians that drop by to play and I will even miss the street people who stop in to chat a while.  I am going to miss all of it so much.  Even on slow days, there is hardly a more lovely place to sit and knit or read or just sit.  I can still do art stuff, and I still exhibit other places, but this place, this gallery, was special.  It still is special, it is just that I will no longer be a part of it.

Well, you cannot have everything, but it was a little piece of heaven in contrast to much of the rest of my life.  Everything comes to an end of some sort and I have to allow myself to experience this break and be patient for the next thing that might come along.  You know, if I were still busy with the gallery, I might miss that next thing or things.  So, in the end, big picture and all, it is a good thing.  Sad, but ultimately good.  I hope.

So, aside from the food issue, not a bad day.  Well, I guess it sort of was, but I am not going to dwell on it.

What's left?  Ah, GP.  I have a bunch of hearts in the guilty pleasure realm and after the happenings of the past couple of weeks, I need all the hearts I can get, so that is what it will be for the next week or so.  Hearts.  Some of them are on the dark side, but I guess that is appropriate, as well.

What the hell happened to being all light and happy about this?  You know, my intent was to stop complaining all the damn time, but I seem to be stuck on the pain and not able to concentrate on the gain, gaining of better health and a more healthy attitude and outlook.  That is/was my goal, if I actually had goals, I mean.  I kind of suck, yes?  Yes, I do.  I am sorry, I do not mean to be so sucky.

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 43

Breakfast:  Eggs, bacon, hash browns (icky, ate them anyway), raisin bread toast, coffee (lots)
Lunch:  Culver's bacon burger, sweet potato fries, diet cola, root beer float
Dinner:  Nothing - amended to add blueberry yogurt

Back home.  Had a good breakfast, except for the toast and hash browns.  My intentions were good, but not good enough.  Lunch was on the trip home and, frankly, there really is not any reasonable menu choice for seriously healthy eating.  There was one salad choice that I could see, and it was some berry thing.  They may have others, but I could not find any on the menu board whilst I was waiting in line, and since the lines were full of our coach members as well as the hapless locals that decided to eat when we were there, I was reluctant to engage in conversation with the counter staff about making modification to what I did see.  In my defense, I did not choose the grilled reuben sandwich, something I wanted very much since we were rushed at lunch on the trip up yesterday and I was able to eat only some of the inside of the reuben I ordered then.  I think I forgot to mention that.  Sad, really, because it was made with homemade marble rye bread.  I will bet it was delicious.

I did fall victim to the fries, but they were of a kinder, gentler potato.  I have absolutely no defense for the float, except that it was the smallest size.  Truth be told, I did not much enjoy the burger.  It had too much processed cheese and mayonnaise on it.  I scraped as much off as I could and then did not eat the last quarter of the thing anyway.  The float disappointed, as well.  Huh.

The tour director passed out more candy, chips and peanuts on the way home and I asked her if her final offering was going to be insulin.  She thought it only mildly amusing and I am guessing that was only because a fellow traveler laughed and she was trying to be a good sport to my smart-ass-ed-ness. 

I ate the little bag of chips, but not the rest.  Still, no dinner for me.  Rats, I still have to take my meds and they need to be taken with food, so it will have to be the little yogurt with blueberries. You know, if I do not start taking this healthy thing seriously, I am going to end up worse off than when I began over a month ago.  Hell, I am nearly halfway through the process and the only weight I have lost is where I did not want to lose any.    Sure, I do have one less chin and less flab in a couple of places.  Big deal.  Small victories, nearly insignificant in the larger war.  I seem to lack the will to do this getting healthier thing.  I sense sabotage from within.  A decidedly bigger deal.

As for feeling, well, I felt well during the weekend.  No stress, no thinking about stuff.  The new pain med worked great and my hips and knees did not bother me a bit until it was close to time for the next dose.  I could take another one now, but I am going to try to fall asleep without it, thinking that being back in my own, comfy bed will be enough to help me fall right to sleep.

I am feeling kind of cranky because it is steaming in here.  I will manage.  Two days away from everything should be two more notches on my Belt Of Courage.  I need to be more brave and every little bit helps.  I worried that these little trips were an attempt to escape from the here, but I think, I believe that they are steps towards being more self-sufficient and less dominated and afraid. 

On the way home, it was raining and I spent a lot of time looking out of the window at all the lovely countryside.  And, I kept thinking, oh, I could live there...and there...and that place...even there in the little town that flashed by.  I want so much to be somewhere, anywhere else.  Cannot do it.  The whole running away from things thing.  I have to find a way to live here, with everything, or I will never be able to settle somewhere else with comfort and confidence and the surety that comes from making the right decision at the right time and for the right reason.  I have the right reason, in spades, but the right time can come only when I have worked through all of this crap.  Just have to pull up my big girl panties and do it.  I need some serious therapy and have for a long time.  Wonder how to fit that in the budget, under the travel, of course, which is a sort of therapy of it's own.

I knit a wash cloth and the body and one sleeve of a really tiny sweater.  I think that it will end up being only two inches square, or not much more than that.  I am using four, 000 needles.  Very small and I have to really pay attention because whilst it is fairly easy to un-knit with larger needles and yarn, I am also using a very fine yard that is intended for making stretch socks.  My eyes finally gave out on that grey-skied, rainy ride home.

GP, which is kind of like the icing on the guilty pleasure of these little trips.

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 42

Breakfast:  Drive-through sandwiches, 2 of them, Diet Rite, 1
Lunch:  Reuben sandwich, inside of a piece of rhubarb custard pie, cole slaw
Dinner:  Huge salad of iceberg, cucumbers, carrots, celery, tomato and a tiny bite of three pasta salads, 1 roll, butter, 3 tiny cup things of the best soup I have had in a long time
Snacks:  See below...somewhere

The day started early, so I was unable to make breakfast at home, thus the two breakfast sandwiches, which I finished whilst waiting for the coach to come to pick up the weekend gamblers.

So, O.K., there were snacks on the coach.  Lots of snacks.  I mistyped it as smacks, and they were pretty much that.  Apparently, the belief of this tour director is to keep everyone eating, munching and playing bingo so as to reduce any spare time for the old folks to fall into mischief.  It worked.  There was a contest to guess how many Tootsie Roll Pops were in the jar.  Only one person won, but everyone got two suckers.  One was pomegranate flavoured, and it was and it was yummy.

Then sweet and salty snacks, like in full sized packages, were passed out.  Then Twizzlers and, gosh, I cannot remember everything.  By the time we arrived at the casino, it was a miracle that everyone was still awake.  I am guessing the bingo helped for those who were playing.

Dinner was at any of the restaurants and, slowly recovering from my blood-sugar coma, I chose the one with the salad bar option.  There was not a huge selection, and the pasta salads were kind of foul and what the hell was that dessert thing that looked like some kind of cinnamon scented school paste?  Everything else was just what you want, fresh, crisp and delicious.  I took some blue cheese dressing and dipped all of the stuff into it.  But, the star was the whitefish chowder.  If I thought that I would not look the fool by going back for a fourth little cup, I would have.  Their cups/bowls held only a half-cup measure, so I really am not such a pig as it might seem.

After that lovely dinner, I went to spend the free playing money they give everyone and then hauled myself to my room, which was fabulous.  I was looking forward to watching television, but it was so confusing that I finally gave up and just went to sleep.

Now, this trip.  Someone who is not me did not want me to go.  That person never wants me to go anywhere, not to work, not to visit our daughter, not to visit with his family, not Saturday morning coffee with my friends, not anywhere.  This would not be such a big deal for me, but promises were made for retirement time.  Every one was broken and now because that someone does not want to go anywhere, the only reasonable extension of that is that no one goes anywhere.  That has been the rule for, well, for always, but it simply is not good enough any more.

Financially, we are in much the same place as most people, perhaps a bit better.  It is with great reluctance that I am allowed to use one of the cars and put gasoline in it.  You know, I am really and truly grateful for being allowed to do that.  We do not have public transportation within four miles of here, and without that car, I would have to stay home or beg rides from other people.  But, really, how often can you do that, the whole expecting other people to haul your sorry ass around.  More importantly, I would not be able to see my daughter and her family very often, nor could I do any volunteer work and that would distress me beyond understanding.  I am also allowed to spend money on groceries, but I suspect that is because I am willing to do the shopping.  Other than that, I pay for everything out of my social security, which I am totally fine doing.

So, dear Diary, I am not going to complain about this anymore, but I am still going to keep planning these small and unbelievably inexpensive trips.  I will still offer to pay for someone who is not me to come along on them, well, at least some of them, but I am not going to stop going and I am not going to be buried by the consequences of being independent about this.  I am willing to pay the cost for keeping on with this.  O.K., I will probably weaken when it is especially bad and complain, although I hope to not do it too often.

One more day of the trip to post about.

Do I have any stockpiled GPs?

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 5 and Day 6

Thursday, May 12
100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 5

Breakfast:  Yogurt and strawberries
Lunch: Another one of those chicken thighs, roasted asparagus.
Dinner: Cheese crackers, three sugar-free chocolates, the little kinds
Lots of water

Only the fifth day and I am wavering.  Oh, my commitment is fine, but my old body is just not up to the task today.  I dragged out the calendar and figured out that I have been unwell for nearly seven months.  There were several bouts of infection that required 2-3 weeks of antibiotics, but I mostly am just tired and sick and tired of feeling sick and tired.

I am sticking with the healthy eating.  Dammit.  I really am.  I expect that my body will take as long to adjust to the lack of refined carbs and other junky kinds of foods at it needs to take.  This stuff takes time.  It must be like detoxing or something.  You try really hard to stop doing some thing and you feel worse for a while.  I know that happens when I have a really bad infection.  I have to keep reminding myself about this so that I do not lose heart and give up.  Because, you know, I really do not want to, well, you know.

It is only that I wish that I had more energy.  I did not do any of the errands and other household stuff that I needed to accomplish today.  I kept taking to my bed, reading and resting.  The new fiction is titled You Believers.  It is good.  Gritty, but good.  The first part had my heart pounding, honest, and by the looks of things, I am not going to read about the resolution of that part until the end of the book.  Good thing I am not inclined to skip to the end.

I did get a half-hour nap, but that kept me alert only for a couple of hours.  The only reason that I am even writing now is that I have to find a way to stay awake until it is closer to bedtime.  A six-hour nap during the daytime does not do anyone any good, no matter what you may think otherwise.  So, I am trying to stay awake for another two hours, at least.

I have another upper-respiratory something.  Dark clouds in and escaping from my upper sinuses, wheezing, coughing and general malaise.  However, I am not going to the doctor because all that happens there is more meds that only depress my system.  Exactly what that system is, I have no idea, but it is there and it is depressed.  Maybe it needs some chocolate to pump up the endorphins or something.

Patience...where are you?  I just need to get through these first few weeks.  On a brighter note, I did not succumb to the siren call of the maraschino cherries.  Score one for the exhausted, ooey-gooey bod.  Snort...hack...leak.

More guilty pleasure...

O.K., so I made the hope cloud image a few days ago.  Then, early this evening (Friday, which is when Blogger would finally allow new posting) I was reading my latest library book and one of the characters was gazing up at the sky and another character said something like she was looking at the sky as though she could read hope in the clouds, or something like that.   How freaking cool is that!!

Friday, May 13

100 Days toward a healthier life - Day 6

Breakfast: Nothing.  Shame on me.
Lunch:  Half of a Subway roast beef sandwich, no dressing, lots of vegetables, a little Provolone cheese
Dinner: Stir fry, pork, tons of celery, pea pods, mushrooms, onions, 1 big jalapeno.  Pineapple and a cookie for dessert.  Tea.
Lots of water all day. 

Since this began, I have been drinking at least a gallon of water each day, and will be able to have more when I get the water filter going.  I have a Britta pitcher and finally found filters for it.  They have to soak for a while before you can use them, and I keep forgetting.  Our tap water is icky and I know I can drink more when the pitcher is ready.

So.  Breakfast.  Did not have any today.  I felt so icky yesterday and had no energy.  I took a walk around the block, hoping to get something going in my body, but it did not work and I had a short nap.  It sort of helped, but by the time I went to bed, I was at the point of being overtired and not able to sleep.  So, I read until nearly 4:00 a.m., fell asleep and was up at my usual 6:30-ish waking up time. 

I fed the cats and went back to bed.  When I next woke, it was just after 11:00 a.m. and I had a hour to pull everything together and get to the gallery.  I made it, and stopped at the Subway place for a foot-long roast beef and veggie.  I ate half of it on the way to work and then forgot about the rest.  Oh, well, such a waste, though.

I was just hungry enough to eat well at dinner.  After, a friend stopped by with ice cream and I had a scoop of chocolate and a half-scoop of strawberry.  I made him take the rest home with him, so I am safe for the moment.  I should have been able to say 'no' to it, but I did not.  This is only the sixth day and I had better get more effective control over my appetites and my ability to restrain myself, or this hundred days will seem much longer.  I thought about making myself begin over again, at day 1, at each fall-down, but that means that I would likely being finishing the hundred days sometime next decade.  My health cannot wait that long.

I was sitting in the gallery this afternoon and the day was going so slowly, so I had a lot of time to people watch and think.  Whilst that was happening, the detachments in my left/good eye kept bothering me and I had this notion that it may be too late to save my health, and it was so alarming a thought in that moment I felt afraid that I might really just freaking die.  Then I started to worry about having another heart attack thing and I was spiralling all over the place, shame, anger, fear and a sense of loss that took me beyond tears into such a hopeless state.

I have no one to blame for the sorry state of my health but myself.  I alone am responsible for getting to this point.  Only I can do what needs to be done to get back on that path to health, but I am so afraid that it might be too late.  What if I have done irreparable damage to my body? 

I know that people come back from devastating heart damage or crippling strokes (another concern as per my internist) or horrible accidents.  I find no comfort in any of that, because I may have too many critical health issues at one time. 

You know, I was sitting there and those vision issues were what started the whole spiral thing and I thought, well, maybe I will be lucky and will only lost most or all of my sight.  You know, maybe that would not be so bad, at least it is better than dying. 

But, I do not want any of it to happen.  I want to get healthier, lose weight, take care of my heart, not have strokes or lose any toes or end up with seriously compromised vision or anything.  I want to be strong, dedicated and faithful and fix it all.  I am taking all of my medications and walking and eating well, or as well as my stupid human nature will allow.  I am now, finally, doing what I should have been doing, what I knew all along I should have been doing.  I am doing it.  But, what if it is too late?

I do not have the heart for any guilty pleasure today.

Simple thoughts

Did you hear the one about the old babe who had a PVD/Posterior Vitreous Detachment and then had a second one four days later?  Well, it seems that having that little heart thing a month ago, plus the joint pain, plus the nerve damage, and the high blood pressure was not enough to help her see (pun coming) that she needed to regain her healthy body and the general health that comes with it.

She needed to be faced with the risk of having the remains of her sight lost due to the little bleed-outs in her retinas and the detachments and the flashers before she was able to take all of this crap seriously.  Lordy.

The simple things in a life are what seem to matter the most.  Forgetting that is just a darn shame.  Big problems are reduced when a client keeps thanking you over and over and keeps asking to shake your hand just because of that little thing you did for them.

When the next client does a little of the same and tells you that you are a nice person and that you are the first person with whom he has felt comfortable in a very long time, well, that is the icing on that cookie and that cookie is one that you can safely enjoy without further assault to your vision.

It is a lovely thing when the person who felt most threatened by your volunteering has become one of your most ardent supporters, which is important in an increasingly uncertain, local government, economic environment.

That he has a larger pole up his ass than you do is an opportunity to mind your own hubris before it can come back and bite you in the ass.  Frankly, it is a blessing, and you get to be grateful not only for his transformation, but for the gentle reflection he offers to your own attitudes and behaviors.

So, anyway, there is this guy who comes into the library on a fairly regular basis.  I do not know who he is, but I see him there all the time.

Today he has a new haircut.  I see him walking towards me and I think, "Man, that is so cool...he is manifesting his inner Beatle."  The mop-top bowl cut is actually quite cute on him.

Then, we pass and I turn to look at the back of the new haircut and I think, "Man, do you not have any friends who are good enough friends to share with you that, from behind, your head looks like a furry penis?"

It is very sad, very, very sad, when a local organization, one dedicated to the needs of veterans, accepts the help of a good person in utilizing a significant part of their facility to bring in much needed funds, and then after learning from him, decide to eliminate him from the program he designed, built and successfully ran.

It would be fine if the reason for dumping the good person was other than intentionally using him to develop the program so that they could take over and run it themselves.  Had they been upfront about their plans, no one would have been surprised or hurt in the transition.  But, seriously, to use someone like that is just plain shameful.

I am dedicated to that organization and when I heard what had happened I went to the source, where the suspicions of the dumped, good person were confirmed.  Bad enough to do that, but how much worse to be so blasé, so matter-of-fact and unashamed about it.  I could not be more shocked if it had happened to me.  I am hoping that writing it down will help me to process what seems like a complete betrayal of principles, beliefs and honor.   I am stunned and see no future time when this is not going to bother me.  I have also severed my connection to them, which makes me more sad that I can even think about.

I want to be light-hearted about this, you know, how breaking up is so hard to do (feel free to sing along), but I thought that I could do my little, peripheral stuff there and it could be a sort of connection to my brother, and there just is not any reasonably light aspect that I can find, which is another disappointment for a positive view girl like me.  Heartbroken and a little scared that such a thing could happen.

I get to play with the babies and their mommy tomorrow.  She, the mommy, was ill last week and I could give her only one day.  Maybe she will feel well enough to play outside with us.  More likely, she will use the time to catch up on all the stuff that was put aside so that she and her babies could play outside every day.

She is a lovely mom and I adore her.  I think that we will surprise her with home-made pizza for lunch.  One of her favorites.

I am a big girl.  I can pull up my big girl panties and get on with whatever needs getting on.  Still, today's disappointment and subsequent split with one of my favorite organizations is so sad.  People get to be human.  I get to let them do that.  I get to accept people for who they are, because, you know, we are all simply doing the best that we can, here on this pretty, little planet.  I get all that.  But, if I really do, then why does my heart ache so much about something that did not directly happen to me?

I have to release this.  Holding on to it serves no one.  Besides, it feels as though I am giving some of my power away to them, and they do not deserve to have anything from me.  This totally and completely sucks.

Frequencies

It is impossible to avoid finding pleasure in a day.  Sometime I have to look for it, on occasion it is necessary to wrestle it out of the mess that a day can be.  So, I should be writing here more often.

I do not because I am weak and the end of the day finds me too exhausted from all of the things that are not pleasurable.  Still, I should make the effort.

Yesterday found me without any scheduled clients.  In itself, it is a cause for unbounded joy, because it means that I have an entire day to catch up on all of the things that never seem to get finished in a normal day.  So, yeah, that was really great.  I did have two short, impromptu meetings with other staff, but I managed to bring everything up to speed, including the forum site that I created for clients. 

The two previous weeks were full of clients, and they were all, with a single exception, my most favorite type.  They come in, do the work and pull together all of the adjunct work they need to do. 

Ah, my exception.  He is the man who rarely shows up, often sleeps/dozes, and is very resistant to doing his own work.  We have established that he does not have any reading or behavioral deficits, and my best guess is that he really does not embrace forward movement in his life right now.  When he shows up, we work; when he stays home, I am able to take walk-ins and do more catch-up stuff.  My supervisor believes that I should have fired him as a client long ago, but, truth be told, I kind of look forward to what he will do next.  He is also a bit dramatic, and wails that if he forgets his appointments that I will be mad at him.  Frankly, I find him amusing, but if that is what he needs to feel about it, then that is just fine.  He missed his appointment this week.  I am looking forward to the next installment.

What else.  I am still infusing hydration liquids into a cat with kidney failure.  She is doing well and is so sweet about allowing me to poke her with a huge needle and then fill the space above her shoulders with cooler than body temperature liquid.  She tolerates the entire procedure and then takes a step or two away from me, plops down and sits and rests whilst I put all of the equipment away.  Her owner is calming down a bit and the two of them are often the sweetest part of my week.

I received a call this morning from the social service agency for which I sometimes volunteer.  One of my old clients has been diagnosed with cancer and I am taking her to an out of town appointment tomorrow.  I think that I am also going to be designated as her person qualified to accompany her and take notes during her doctor visits.  I am saddened by her illness, but thrilled to be involved with her again.  If she is strong enough, I will offer to take her to lunch before returning her to her home.

The kitties are fine, although C seems to be having trouble with his colon again and is vomiting a fair amount.  Sad for the process of his health, but also because it means that he cannot sleep in my room whenever he likes.  I have no desire to clean up the effluence from either end of that wonderful guy, so he must stay on the wrong side of that door.  It means that both cats cannot go there, and that makes for sadness for all of us.

I am trying to stay upbeat here, but I had an issue with my good, as in decent vision, eye last week.  It has not resolved and there is not explanation of the cause or how to fix or prevent the bastardly issue.  So, I am concentrating on enjoying the vision that I have now and not stressing about something which is unknown and might not fully manifest anyway. 

I am weary of my weight, as in huge body, and am trying to move in the direction of doing something about it.  I have good intentions, really and truly I do.  Moving from intention, desire and need is difficult for me.  It is as though I do not feel deserving of a healthy life.  It is like I deserve to have a sad body to match my sad life.  I cannot control or really even affect the life part, but I could and can do something about my physical aspect.  Why is this so hard and why does it make me weep.  I have to move beyond this barrier.  If I do not, I will die long before I want or need.

I am practically atingle with happiness

Whilst I still have a load or two of laundry to do, no one has hassled me or given me grief or yelled at me about using the machines today.

If this is not pure, unadulterated bliss, well, I do not know what is.  Were I able to move with comfort, I would be happy-dancing all over the place, but really quiet, like a mouse.  Wee, tiny, little happy-dancing mice.  I would dance with them.  My peeps.

Ah, whatever happens for the other half of this day, I can survive it relatively unscathed because this early part is worth appreciating, seeking out and bringing on the dancing and very blissful little guys with the naked tails. 

To leap, to soar, without a care
Is a blessing of the rarest kind.
Through the air and in my soul,
One to be held in heart and mind

For times less peaceful,
Times less calm and quiet and gay,
When struggles are met
With the strength gathered today

It is life's dance, at least mine
To experience as best I am able.
And gather the soft remembrances
For future times unstable.

Dance, baby, whilst you can.

Remembering

So, anyway, I am sitting here tonight, watching a DVD and noodling around on the computer.  My daughter and her wonderful husband and brilliant sons are on their way to Outer Middle-of-Nowhere where his parents live.  They go every year for Christmas and stay for the better part of two weeks.  We celebrated Yule on Monday and it was wonderful.

Tonight's fillum was Prince of Persia.  Not too bad, but there was an aspect of being able to...oh, if you have not yet seen this and want to, stop reading, or I will ruin something for you.  Seriously.  So, anyway, this aspect is about doing something that everyone has wished that they could do.  Go back in time, even if for a minute, and re-do something, or avoid doing something or stop something from happening.

And, once that plot device was introduced, I am not sure how much of the rest of the movie I watched.  I could not help but think about that.  About the things that could be changed, should such a thing be possible.

I have always felt, and said, that if it were possible to go back in time and change something, that I absolutely would not do it.  That I believe that every experience I have had is/was essential to becoming the person I am now.  I would keep them all, even the ones that were horrible, miserable or just generally fucked up.  Not even the couple of times that I nearly died.  Nothing little, nothing huge and nothing in between.

I meant it all of the times I said or thought it and I mean it now.

Except, now I know about another person who had a childhood and adulthood, built on abuse, similar to mine.  I can intellectualize about this with the best...done it.  But, I know her, and that makes it different somehow.  Up to this time, practically this moment, I have never met anyone who was either seriously abused or willing to share it.  It makes a difference, this knowing.  Please do not misunderstand.  I am not quantifying abuse or neglect or anything of the sort.  There is no comparing.  Each person's experience is just as terrible for them as another's experience was/is for him or her.  It is not even apples and oranges, because you simply cannot compare or measure suffering.  It is too specific to the person, too individual.

So, I spent a lot of years in therapy.  I spent a few, cumulatively speaking, mood altering with wine.  A childhood of experience in that realm formed and informed me about not going down or settling onto that path, but I dabbled every once in a while.  When I needed to.  When the pain was too great.  When I had no other resources.  I never got stuck there, not even for a few months, but I did have the occasional few days, maybe a week here and there, that were significantly more wet than dry.

I read.  I used to watch television.  I know that legions of children suffered much the way that I and my siblings did.  I know all of that.  But, now someone else is sharing a significant milestone in her journey to healing from her childhood.  She lives too far away for us to talk, but I am trying to let her know that there is survival to be found.

So, I am sitting here, movie over, very early in the morning and thinking.  No one gets out of here alive.  But, some people manage to go through their life without more than the ordinary, stream-of-life bumps.

Not everyone is tortured as a child.
Not everyone wallows in alcoholism or other substance abuse.
Not everyone suffers from the lack of basic resources.
Not everyone has significant or chronic health issues.

Yeah.  I get that.

And, I get that there is not one, single thing that any child ever did to deserve any difficulty or obstacle or challenge that his or her life presents.

We are all innocent until something takes that away.  If we are lucky, we find a way to reclaim that.

Like I did.