Me in bird form. See? My shadow gives me away.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: incognito.
Me in bird form. See? My shadow gives me away.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: incognito.
Great blue herons must have great eyes to spot these small fish and grab them. How amazing.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: eyes.
Gosh, again? Once again I am giving up on dating, because, well…. I just cannot even IMAGINE beginning to share my past life. Heh. I suppose I could do one of those “We never talk about the past” relationships, but BLEAGH. Sorry, boring.
So, I quit. As I wrote in The AntiDating Patch, people are contrary beasts and nothing makes them more interested then being engaged/and/or/quitting dating. How do I get around this? Wearing the PATCH(Tm) is not enough. (I chose itsy bitsy country of origin of my choice, just FYI, not the boxers and ick, not the speedo).
Quitting won’t work. I will be hounded. My microbiome will start howling and send out pheromones to the other microbiomes and people will gather round. No! I say, No!
Better to date. Hmmm. I think I will date the birds in my yard. The male deer are a bit spiky for my taste, a little scary to get close to. I like the raccoons, they are VERY good at growling and protect their young. The coyotes are shy but I’ve seen them within a block and by my former clinic. Also one on three legs by the hospital. I wonder if he was considering the ER? I find great blue herons fascinating and wish that I could fly and land in trees. I could date a tree, right? Be anything you want to be? At one point I was so fed up with people that I decided to be a tree.
There. I will peel the AntiDating Patch off in a week and date the local flora and fauna. A week of the patch will reinforce my resolve and then I can go moon at trees, or a blue heron, or a coyote.
Phew, problem solved and plan laid. I won’t have to explain my life at all, at least not in English. I have had a blue heron circle back to land in a tree when I was trying to talk blue heron. The heron looked pretty fierce, I am afraid that what I am saying is probably an insult. It’s easy to pick up the nasty slang in another language. Maybe they will teach me if they sense my deep and positive intentions. I hope so, don’t you?
Fishing happily, just waiting, the tide is way out. Mmmm, some really delicious things are revealed. Yum!
Wait, what’s that? I am being WATCHED.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: watched.
Am I damaged or blessed to have PANS?
Damaged because it has put me out six times? Four times with pneumonia, once with preterm labor, and once with mononucleosis. Plus getting really sick with strep A as a kid, an earache that had me crying with pain at age 8, coughs in medical school that would hang on for six weeks and not respond to albuterol. Only rest would help. A year this time and not better yet, 6 months out last time and then seven years working half time. In 2012 out two months. 2005 out two months. Preterm labor out 6 months. Mononucleosis: dropped ten pounds and did not feel better or gain it back for two months. How much income have I lost? A lot. Am I damaged?
Blessed because I am not dead? My sister dies of cancer at 49, my mother at 61, my mother’s father at 79. All three married people who had “anger issues”. And all three got cancer.
I think that they had anger that they could not reach.
I do not think that ALL cancer is buried, unexamined, unresolved anger. But I am starting to see a medical pathway that could lead from buried anger or other buried emotions to illness and death. The buried emotions are stressful. The body tries to hold the stress. The body works very hard at it. The conscious mind is not aware. This is the realm of the unconscious. The stress, the unresolved trauma, anger, grief, whatever, triggers antibodies. Heightened sympathetic nervous system, higher adrenaline and higher cortisol. Cortisol is the steroid system. Steroids help to lower inflammation but they also impair the immune system. The immune system is chronically suppressed, trashed, and then it can’t do its job. Anti lysoganglioside antibodies form and block the lysogangliosides. The lysogangliosides are supposed to clean house in the brain. They can’t clean house, they are paralyzed. And the brain forms plaques: dementia. Or some other antibody forms that blocks cancer removing cells in the immune system: and there it is. Cancer.
We all have cancer all the time, that our immune system is removing. That’s a little weird to think about, isn’t it? So we need healthy immune systems, we need the parasympathetic nervous system, we need to relax, we need to play, we need to laugh ourselves silly at stupid cat videos, we need to make ridiculous memes go viral on TikTok, we need to use the power of the internet to drive the cost of a share up just to fuck with the rich Bosses, because we are tired of them fucking us over.
So, says my sig other, or he who used to be. You need to avoid stress, in order to not get sick again.
Well. I stopped eating on Saturday a week ago and ate minimal calories and mostly high protein and fat. Because I was pretty sure he was breaking up with me. He felt the same about me. I was terrified when we walked two days ago, so I wore the dragon shirt. Most of all I wanted not to yell.
Neither of us yelled. We both listened. He doesn’t know why he has shut me out of three areas of his life, and the three most important ones. It isn’t me. He is aware that it is him. He was not really aware that he was doing it. I am trained to hide emotions, from childhood in my crazy family and then physicians are trained as well. I cry with patients sometimes, when we find that their cancer is back, or other things like that. The child dying. But I can hold a calm expression even when a person tells me that they are hearing voices telling them to kill themselves and would I please take out the antenna in their tooth. So I sat hard on my emotions for ten months. Until I thought the right time had come.
Even then, I did my best and screwed up. We’d opened up one thing and I thought the rest would be ok. I sent an email. Whoa, boy, it was NOT ok, and I got yelled at. I burst into tears. I didn’t feel like yelling at all, I was crushed. But it is ok, it had to come out. The Year of the Ox is almost over. I hope the Year of the Tiger is less horrible. But at the same time, I would not trade the time with him for anything.
Damaged or blessed? Cursed or blessed?
Both, I think. All of us.
I am submitting this to today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt, though it is not a hawk.
I love Great Blue Herons. We have a lot. I love them best in trees, because they still look strange to me in trees. They will perch right on the top of our tall Pacific Northwest trees and look like peculiar Christmas tree toppers. Alien angels. Their bones are lighter than ours, so they can stand on a limb that would not hold me or you.
The great blue herons have bones so light that they can stand on the floating kelp.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: meeting.
The Introverted Thinker is eight. Her mother takes her out of school for a week to go to New York City.
They leave her sister and her father behind.
Her mother complains about the school paperwork. “Never let school get in the way of your children’s education,” she says. “That’s what my father says.”
The IT is not sure what all this means. But she is excited.
They go on an airplane. She gets to sit by the window. She can see the ground and it is squares like a quilt with hills. It is so beautiful! She is amazed, magic!
In New York City they go to the house of an old friend of her mother’s. The old friend is old and wears dresses to the ground and a lot of jewelry. The house is dark and there are many things in it. The IT is told that the things are antiques and she must not touch anything. She walks around carefully in the dark places, looking at all of the strange things while her mother talks to the old friend. They talk about the past and people that she does not know.
Her mother takes her to museums on some days. Some are art museums. The IT is already used to art museums because her mother is an artist. The museum is like an art gallery only much bigger and the ceilings are very high. A lot of the art is very big too.
One museum is different. Natural History, says her mother. There are dinosaur bones. The IT can’t touch them either but they are wonderful. Huge animals from the past that are not here any more! She loves it.
They fly home. First she has to thank the old friend with the house like a museum, only darker. Then they go to the plane. This time there are some clouds so the IT can’t see as much, but she still gets to see the quilt of the land.
She decides that she likes museums and she likes natural history. Especially dinosaurs.
This is the final poem in my Falling Angels Dream Poetry series.
Some people say there are
Angels among us
I have faith in birds
I search for a nest
the size of a nut
tiny, lined with spiderwebs
I love the herons too
great blue heron
flying lands in a tree
I look through my mechanical eye
zoom in click click
and there is another
at the tree top
two in a tree
I move around
and there – one drops down
I am not distracted
a six foot nest
I move away gently
I wander back by the tree
in the morning
in the evening
two in this tree
two in that
one in another
as many as five in a tree
six foot wing spans
a rookery of winged beings
angels among us
and why would we think
they would look like us?
For Mundane Monday #207 my prompt is change. Here is one of my beloved great blue herons in the winds of change.
Well, dear folks on WordPress, I have life things going on that are interfering with my blog.
This will be the last Mundane Monday post unless someone else would like to take over. Many thanks to the people who have contributed.
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