Spending a lot of time in bed, half upright near a window lets you watch the day go by, the sun shine, the clouds gather, the lighting flash, the shadows come, the light rise.
And while doing this, I see a light pole and a rounded tree canopy transform itself as dusk fell into a very credible profile of a mosque and minaret.. So like Istanbul that I was instantly transported to that memory ..I even tried to take a series of pictures with mi iPhone but they don't capture it..only my eyes and imagination make it real .. A lot of what's been happening these days has been a bit like that.. One thing suggesting another suggesting another picking some other thought along the way and pretty soon I would find myself somewhere else entirely.
The days are punctuated by 4 p's: pain, pills, pee and poo. Now I write all the times down, just so I remember what to take when. Often I an jolted almost out of bed by the urgency to take care of any one of the ah- four- mentioned.
I note this not because thepain is so great. It just is, the day's currwhy phrase-du-jour, what it is. Knowing full well that I am not experiencing the half of it in terms of the pain I know is out there and being experienced by so so many.
The oxycodone: my little blue friend that simultaneously calms and frightens me ... And constipated. I was a bit panicked yesterday afternoon when the scrip hadn't
been filled and I had only 4 left til Monday but Dr Paula and mom's pharmacist came through and now I should be
good for the week. Now if I can figure out when exactly to take the senokot and colace for a smooth transitio I will be set . The oxy also probably causes crazy dreams..like today's which Laister variously of mom , Bruna ( who had in reality just arrived from OttawA)Dressed like middle Easter
Women in shiny caftans. I was somewhat paralyzed but when I spoke was saying " I am having a thtwoke , I am having a thtwoke .. Get me to a hothpitow" my mom saying "no you're going to be fine" me mumbling some more, Bruna saying okay let's go, me picking up pOlo who of clued was a baby and saying "I can't carry him . I have cancer. I've ha a hysterectomy . I can't carry more than 10 lbs" all the while running to find a car to go the the hospital . It turns out we are in an Italian town in the Veneto region. We are at a dead end and I an still carrying Paolo thinking he doesn't weigh much at all and he's so sweet a cuddly and smiling at me. We have guide taking us back to town. She says something about Polyps. Utero" and wee Paola asks "what's a ootero?" then we land outside a fish market where mom is trying to bribe a ride to the hospital by buying a huge fish and putting 40 euro or 40 thousand lira.. The money falls out.. I put it back .. We need to get to the nearest hospital we say oh Los of hospitals here but you need to go to Udine and we all pile in to a station wagon that was there all alongno bribe needed. And were packed in all of a sudden singing funny songs. And amusing the other shy children who never sang silly songs in a car ona road trip .
Thenstartled awake by Zia Lucy and Remy's visit .
All to segue to this additionally improbable observation.. During this time away from books, computers, fact- checking, etc as I write this blog.. I am just dipping into what's in the soupy brain mine... This sea of uncertain memory.
Prayer slut: And sometimes, new things suggest themselves. When I got a kind note from a publishing colleague that he was keeping me in thoughts and prayers I wrote back thanking him saying it was a real consolation and that I wAs becoming a bit o a prayer slut.
I have no idea what that really means although I'm working hard on a definition but it made me
Laugh just to think and then say it and then send it that it makesme think it's probably true.
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