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The next stage

It is hard to build a new life after pneumonia number four.

Running my own clinic and seeing patients and keeping track of a business for eleven years, along with two children, now adults done with college and masters and jobs, I did not have an enormous amount of time.

During covid, I started beach walking with a person. Two years into covid, they say, “I have to get back to my real life.” Oh. They say, “You need your own life.” Um, yes, and clearly they are not in it, by their choice. That was a year into pneumonia four and I was still on oxygen. The person bailed. I was a detour to get them through covid. Ugly, but I am trying to learn everything I can from them. About myself and who and what to avoid!

WordPress and the blogging community helps sustain me through this! I can write when I am ill (at least so far) and when the pandemic closed down. I am so encouraged that people contribute from all over the world. A small candle of hope.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to do a limited clinic or not. I am hoping so.

Meanwhile, I’ve been getting to know more people outside clinic and going to live music and dancing and doing open mikes. I am doing the poetry open mikes. A friend in a band says, “But you don’t come to mine!” “That’s a music open mike.” “We need poetry,” he says. So I’ve gone twice and it has been really fun and I am getting to know that community as well. Last Thursday someone said my poems are weird. “I don’t mean bad, just from a different angle.” Meaning unusual, I think. Perspective.

I have been here for 23 years. I know many people in the music community from singing in chorus all those years, I have a church community, I know many people in the dance community, my father and I were in the Wooden Boat community, I have both good and not so good connections in the medical community. The legal community knows both my children, through Mock Trial competitions. I was in the Rotary for ten years and that is another wonderful community. The exchange students going all over the world and people giving back also give me hope!

Suddenly I am busy. I will have to start choosing between things. I still have the aftereffects of Covid-19. I had mild chronic fatigue before it and still do. I think I am stuck with that, so I have to build in rest and quiet time. At least, physical quiet time. My brain doesn’t really do quiet, but that is ok.

Hooray for every day and for building the next stage.

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I took the photograph this week from Point Defiance, Mount Tahoma, aka Rainier.

Limited:

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Bee love

I love the simple roses the best, with fewer petals. The bees in the Point Defiance Rose Garden agreed with me. I think they reach the pollen more easily if there are fewer petals. Also, I notice that the roses that have the most amazing fragrance are the old fashioned ones! Not completely, but mostly. I love this one.

For Cee’s Flower of the Day.

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The DSM Stew

Pyschosis
Neurosis
Babeiosis
Psittacosis

Medicine shifts
out the old, in the new
neurosis is gone
from the DSM stew

https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/understanding-psychosis

https://www.cdc.gov/parasites/babesiosis/

https://www.cdc.gov/pneumonia/atypical/psittacosis/index.html

The DSM V is the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, volume V. The DSM III was published in 1980, DSM-IV in 1994 and the DSM-V in 2013. Some disorders are dropped or combined with others or the criteria are changed. In the DSM-V, tolerance and overuse (formerly addiction) were combined from two disorders into one spectrum.

Medicine is always changing and updating. Before h. pylori was recognized as a cause of stomach ulcers, there was much more ulcer surgery and ulcer bleeding deaths.

I don’t know what will come out of Covid-19, but the research on the immune system and Long Covid (now called PASC) is formidable.

The DSM-V and the ICD-10 are humans categorizing things, defining diseases. They will continue to change.

For a history of the DSM, read here: https://www.psychiatry.org/psychiatrists/practice/dsm/about-dsm/history-of-the-dsm.

____________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: neuroses.

The photograph is taken in September 2021, with my camera. Hypoxia and a fast heart rate makes me really anxious, but neither is considered a psychiatric disorder.

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Not weird

This is not weird in Port Townsend during the Great Port Townsend Bay Kinetic Sculpture Race. This is normal. It’s coming in nine weeks, get your feathers and costumes and bright colors, build your sculpture and practice the mud bog and the water race! Most mediocre wins! Check your breaks, load a teddy bear, bribes for the judges and practice your moves for the Kinetic Ball.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: weird.

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In deep

Time to return
again

Human, pfaugh
I give up
I don’t want to be one
I can be anything I want to be
I want to be a mermaid
again

I sink into the sea
and down to the depths
scales and tail and breathe the sea
the water cools the burns
my charred burnt skin
and lungs

Such a fail again
every time I try
to be human
yes, legs, I can do that
it always makes my voice hurt
but those damn wings
come with the legs

It’s hard to hide the wings.

I don’t know how
but they sense them
even when I hide them

It really pisses me off.
It’s the broken ones that show up
though now I think maybe
they are all broken
they all wander around
pretending they are ok
using lies to try to appear nice
hating parts of themselves
calling those parts unclean spirits
and casting them out
DEMON! DEVIL!
over and over

I try to pretend they aren’t there
the cast out
and I am human too
but the demons kneel and lay their monstrous heads
in my lap
crying
cluster round me
begging for my help

I always fail.

I try to stay present
with the person and the cast out
but eventually I can’t stand it
and I say something wrong
and the stupid human thinks I am the demon
and casts me out too.

I wait and hope.

I wait and hope with the monsters
with the rough beasts.
“You have wings,” say the demons, “Help us!”
“I can’t.” I say, “The humans must help themselves.”
The monsters weep and wail.
Finally I am sick of it again.
I send them home
and I go home too.
I have failed again
and must endure falling through the atmosphere
my feathers and skin a burning star

I am sick of it.
I give up, Beloved.
I am a failure.
I can’t do this.
I must go to the sea again.

Here is the trench, the deepest part of the ocean
I stop swimming and let myself sink
Slowly the light disappears
I am in the ink black

Slowly the others appear
glowing
in the deep

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: liquid.