Evil squirrels falling change

The Ragtag Daily Prompt is change. Lots of that here, since I was gone for two weeks!

  1. The evil squirrel has destroyed the third bird feeder. I was not home to chase it out of the yard yelling and it shredded the latest feeder. I am going to try one of those feeders that shuts when the squirrels weight lands on it. More expensive, but nearly equal to the three I’ve had chewed up!
  2. I left in summer and return to fall. Leaves are down, colors are turning, it is cooler in the morning and evening. We had a high of 64 F yesterday. That feels cool after northern Italy.
  3. I am stronger and slimmer. Carrying a loaded pack daily or every other day really made a difference! I was not sure my right shoulder would hold out, but it did, just. I went through PT earlier this year. I am doing my exercises again.
  4. I had some wonderful time with my daughter. Not that that’s a change, but she is stronger too!

Sol Duc tongue out.

Looking big-eyed, like a Keen painting.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: change.

Pat a bee

I patted a honey bee yesterday.

The bees were having such a lovely time on these flowers in my front yard, plants that my neighbor gave me. I worked with a zoologist right after college who was studying honey bees. With that experience in the past, I patted a bee very gently. It shrugged a little and went back to the flower, much too busy to think of stinging me.

For Cee’s Flower of the Day.

Student travel

I traveled around Italy for two weeks with my daughter. We had backpacks and we planned it as we went. We usually had a place to stay two days ahead or a little more and both had return tickets. Hers is changable, mine was not unless I got sick. Then the insurance should kick in.

The last time I traveled in Italy was with two cousins in 1980. We traveled from January to March, with a Eurorail pass, and tried to do $20 per day. We did not like Italy very much because we felt terribly hassled by men. They yelled things at us, invited us into their cars, felt us up on buses and in general were awful. We were dressed in jeans, hiking boots, down jackets and frame packs. This made us obviously from the US or Canada, but we certainly were NOT dressed in a “suggestive” manner. We were very relieved when we got to Greece and there was less harassment.

I did not think I would be hassled since I am 43 years older. We were not hassled and I really did not see that behavior happening. I did see some outfits that I would consider rather sexy on young women in the hostels, but mostly people were in summer clothes. Narrow tank top straps, mini skirts and short shorts were frowned on in a number of the Catholic churches, and my daughter borrowed a large scarf from me as a skirt a couple of times. I liked Italy much much more this time. Thank you!

It was interesting to travel with a backpack in Europe again. There are other grey haired people in the hostels, though the closer to the tourist areas we were, the younger the clientele. I liked my pack better than a roller bag because honestly, there were stairs everywhere. At first both my feet and my quadriceps complained about the amount of walking and walking with a backback, but I got stronger. I woke up with terribly sore quads every day the first week.

My daughter wanted an open schedule. We had the first two night’s stay set up but no more than that. We took turns finding places to stay, getting tickets for big things like the Vatican Museum, and getting bus and train tickets. Google maps is quite amazing. We could put in our destination and it would tell us which bus and which stop and trains and metros. Back in 1980 we pored over maps, so that is a big change.

When I got off my last plane, I put the pack on and thought, either it is lighter or I am stronger. Both, I think, because I had eaten all the food while on the airplanes. Food is heavy!

I want to travel again next year, though I don’t know where. I have a long list of ideas.

Here is my daughter’s neat pack:

And my messier one:

Work again

I have been wondering whether to try to work again. It’s risky.

I asked the pulmonologist from Swedish Hospital if there was any way to keep from getting pneumonia number five. “We don’t know.” Is it safe for me to return to work? “We don’t know.” I like the plural in the answer, is he speaking for pulmonologists or Swedish or what? Anyhow, the risk is pneumonia number five and death or ending up permanently on oxygen or needing a lung transplant or something stupid like that.

It’s not raining yet and I promised not to even attempt to return to work until it rains.

I saw my cardiologist yesterday. He thinks I should return to work. Early on he said that I am smart, “like one of those old fashioned internists who read everything.” I laughed, because yes, I am a science geek. At the next visit he said, “The family doctors aren’t always as thorough as they could be.” I replied, “I don’t know, after all, I’m a Family Practice Doctor.” “Oh.” he said, “I thought you were an internist.” Which made me laugh because it’s a sort of back handed compliment. Cardiologists do a three year internal medicine training and then more years of sub specialty to become a cardiologist. Most specialists seem to scorn Family Practice a bit, though not all. And I have definitely had specialists ask me for help. A perinatologist: “How do I help people stop smoking?” I laughed at that, too, and replied, “Do you want the five minute , the ten minute, the thirty minute or the one hour lecture?” A med-peds doc asks me to put a cast on a child’s arm because even though she is board certified in internal medicine and pediatrics, she has almost no orthopedic training. I was at that clinic to see obstetric patients that day, but was happy to do the cast too. I love the broad training and the infinite variety of rural Family Practice. It is SO INTERESTING and OFTEN FUN THOUGH NOT ALWAYS. Sometimes it’s sad.

Here is an article about a physician doing what I want to do: https://nymag.com/intelligencer/article/long-covid-treatment-lisa-sanders.html. She thrives on complexity, she thrives on diagnostic puzzles and she writes the column that the television series “House” was based on. When I watched House, what I noticed was the nearly all of the patients on the show were either leaving something out or lying. In reality, I think it’s just that sometimes we need a lot of time to pull together the complex picture and clues. I always pay attention to the pieces of the puzzle that do not fit and sometimes those are the key to finding a diagnosis that is unexpected. Dr. Sanders spends an hour with a new patient. That is what I did in my clinic for the last decade, because that hour gave me so much information and it allows people to feel heard. A ten or fifteen minute visit doesn’t let people speak. It’s slam bam here is your prescription ma’am. What I see in the multitude of notes from all the doctors I’ve seen since 2014 is that they leave most of the conversation out of the note. Things I think are important. I think most of the clinic notes about me are crap and the physician is not listening and doesn’t know what to do. I include the stuff that doesn’t fit and doesn’t seem to make sense in the notes I write. Patient appreciated, when I gave them their note at the end of the visit. “You got all that?” Oh, yes, I tried.

One of the Long Covid symptoms that Dr. Sanders mentions is people “feeling like they are trembling inside.” I’ve seen that before Covid-19. That was a symptom that I did not pin down in a particular patient, but now there is more than one person complaining of the same thing. Really, why don’t physicians include those complaints? It’s egotism to cut out anything you don’t understand and most patients want help so are motivated not to lie. Ok, they might admit that they’ve been out of their blood pressure medicine for two weeks and that’s why their blood pressure is too high, or they’ve been drinking mochas and that’s why their blood sugar is way too high, but they are really in to get help. I think it is a terrible disservice not to document what they say, even if it’s not understood and the physician thinks it’s unrelated to their specialty and they don’t know what to do.

So: I want to do a Long Covid Clinic, with an hour for the first visit, and longer than usual follow ups. Part time because of my lungs and the fatigue. We shall see, right? I am going to look for grants to help set this up.

Think of how much work went in to this statue and this church. The Basilica di San Marco took at least 400 years to build and decorate!

Marble triangles

I took this on August 31, the intricate and beautiful and a bit overwhelming marble floor of the Basilica di San Marco in Venice, Italy. They do not stop at triangles.

That’s just the floor. It is mind boggling.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: triangle.

Comfortable with angles

I am thinking about monsters
That I am comfortable with the monsters
in my dreams
but terrified by the angels.
Though I type angles.

But I also dream that all the angels fall
all are made to fall
they fall down then back up
when they fall down they burn
if they fall here
burn in the atmosphere
then they are red or black and burnt
and we think they are devils: monsters.

If angels are monsters
and monsters are angels
and they go back and forth
and I type angles
because everyone makes mistakes
even angels
and to make something perfect
is an offense to the Beloved
because only the Beloved is perfect
and ineffable.

Still the angels.
I am afraid.
So was Mary, sore afraid.
Monsters are easy: at worst they can kill me
and they never have
in my dreams.
And they are sad and alone and weep.
I comfort them. Which makes them afraid,
because they are not used to being loved.
I wonder if I frighten them
like the angels frighten me.

And then I can understand
a little
of why the angels frighten me so much.
I too am not used
to feeling loved.

written September 13, 2023

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: bread winner. But I can’t eat gluten any more and my lungs are too vulnerable for the work I love. So how bread and how winner? Maybe the angels and angles and monsters will tell me.

Wing brush

I fly home tomorrow. Meanwhile we have split up and I wandered around Venice much of today. I caught the pigeon in flight in this street. If I stretch out my arms I can brush both sides.

Baggage reorganized and no souvenirs except photographs and memories. Food to get me through flights, too! It has been a delight to travel with family and without oxygen.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: brush.

Comfortable with monsters

I am comfortable with the monsters in my dreams.

I dream of monsters howling and I go to them. They could be sick or hurt or need help! I must go to them! And the monsters are very noisy but they are babies. Abandoned and dirty and dark and hungry and cold.

This has nothing to do with my childhood. Do you believe me?

I have a pack and supplies in the dream. I carry the monsters up up into the light. I feed them and bathe them and diaper them and wrap each one in a blanket and hold them. They howl until they are too tired to howl and then they sulk. At first they do not know how to respond to kindness and love. But they learn and grow and are beautiful.

I am not comfortable with the angels.

I dream that all the stars start falling and then I see that they are angels. I am so frightened, why must they fall? I don’t want to be an angel and then I am falling and crying. The angels are at perfect peace with falling but I am not. I don’t understand, Beloved. Why do the angels fall?

I ask the Beloved over and over. My poems are questions. Why, Beloved, why?

The angels fall down and up, over and over. They are good then bad, or labeled bad, then labeled good.

Just like people.

The angels are seen as black or white. But I see them as black on white heaven or white on black heaven, it doesn’t matter. Do not let the color be a label. And after someone falls, they are burnt in the sky. They are seen as a devil or a monster!

Angels falling, fallen, monsters.

And I am here for the monsters. Who are angels, in disguise.

_______________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: disguise.