Friends and illness

The good thing about getting deathly ill is that you find out who your friends are. They stay by you. Even if you are misdiagnosed, labelled, ignored.

It is harder to ignore me now that I am on oxygen. It is difficult to chalk oxygen up to a rumored behavioral health diagnosis. When you have pneumonia and are confused, that is called delirium, not mania.

The bad thing about being deathly ill is that you find out who is NOT a friend. They disappear like rats leaving a sinking ship. Actually I like rats better.

I have one person who says, “I like you well, not sick.” Um, I would rather stay well too. But having seen fully 20 specialists, including four pulmonologists since 2012, a cure seems unlikely, doesn’t it? Meanwhile I seem to be getting stronger in pulmonary rehabilitation. Treadmill, classes about the lungs, stretching and weights.

Another person states, “if you get sick again, I am gone for four months.” Not a friend, right? Not a true friend and never ever will be. They do not understand friendship.

A true friend shows up at my house in 2012. I am lying on my bed using my father’s oxygen. She glares at me. “YOU are coming to MY house.” My reply: “OK.” I survive, even when the hospital sends me home with strep A pneumonia and delirium. Helps to be a physician, though I had to just trust myself, even delirious. The true friends help save me. I can’t even say how grateful I am.

I have a new friend. She is ill. It is progressive. Her husband seems so surprised that I come to see her. But I know how terribly lonely it is to be abandoned when you are ill. I have been there four times.

Blessings on the true friends.

Here is my sister’s blog. I remembered this post as “caged”, but her word is “trapped”.

https://e2grundoon.blogspot.com/2010/12/

My sister died of breast cancer in 2012.

Over The Rhine – The Laugh of Recognition

growing

My son and daughter-in-law got married April 30th in Black Diamond, Washington. The young man in the photograph was the youngest in the house I rented. We had my two aunts: 81 and 86 years old, and my uncle, 85 years old. Me, my daughter, my two friends and their son. This young man and I took photographs. He taught me new things about my camera and on the last day ran a slide show from my laptop to the television. He helped all of us folks with technology and we really enjoyed having him there.

And I am delighted to hear that he told his parent that he wished we had one more day, all of us. Eight people in a household from Thursday to Monday and it went very well. Weddings always have some interesting glitches, but after putting off the wedding for two years due to covid, the bride and groom did not seem rattled by anything! My daughter-in-law is truly a delight.

Here is to the next generation, surviving this pandemic, sweeping up the pieces and growing, and thriving anyhow.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: children.

bleed

even when your heart is broken, monday still comes, every week
you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, make a list of your work
no one in the bank, the post office, the store sees your life bleed

_____________________________

For Ronovan Write’s Sijo Wednesday # 18: use regret.

Not a stick

The Ragtag Daily Prompt today is toys. I think my favorite toys right now are the three cameras I inherited from my father. Currently I am using the Nikon Coolpix P510. My father died in 2013, so none of the cameras is new, but they are wonderful anyhow.

I took this on a beach walk last week, East Beach on Marrowstone Island. My friend and I are arguing whether the distant object is a stick or not. “Not a stick.” I say. He disagrees. The camera, with it’s zoom lens, breaks the tie. Definitely not a stick.