I'll tell the story tomorrow

Just beginning to perk up, and am still very tired.

Today was good. My ear hurt all night and kept me awake, but I think my body learned how to make enough endorphins. I took a Vicodin after lunch (and slept for an hour), and another just now. I’m really not suffering. I itch like crazy under the cat dish; I can take it off and scratch (gently) tomorrow.

When I walked into chapel for the healing Eucharist, a friend took one look at me with my storm-trooper protection on, and called out, “Hail the conquering warrior!” The presider looked at me and laughed, in a totally affirming way. (He’s been through health crises. And I’m so relieved and joyful, I don’t inspire pity.)

Hugged my advisor at the peace, and thanked her for everything. She told me how good it was to see me, and that I’d been in their prayers. And she said to me, “Keep on healing.”

Oh, I am. Physically and emotionally. This whole journey has taught me so much. I asked it to teach me. And it has. I know that I’ve grown into and through this; I can feel it. When I’m not living in the middle of it, I can process more of that.

Talked with a friend after chapel, and arranged to borrow her bathtub if I need to. I have to figure out a way to bathe, and keep my neck and head dry. We have tiny showers, in the dorm. I’ll be able to wash my hair in a kitchen sink, with help. I don’t do that more than 2 or 3 times a week, anyway—so it’s not really worth tracking down a dry shampoo. I think I’ll only need to be so careful, until next Thursday.

I need to go thrift-store shopping; I need summer shirts that button. I have no desire to start pulling t-shirts on over my head. If I hold off on the Vicodin tomorrow, I can go—or I can see if anyone can come with me. Most of my friends have much more work to finish than I do, right now though. (Thank you, all of my faculty.)

My neck hurts when I twist it to the left, against the incision—so driving’s still really out. I think there are places within walking distance—and I ought to return an overdue CD to the downtown library, anyway.

I’m not supposed to bend, strain, or lift for two weeks. I may be able to postpone packing and moving until the first week of June. That would be a huge help. I need to talk to the housing director (or whatever his title is) tomorrow. He’s a friend, so I’m not worried.

It’s hot here, and one of the best things about today was the strawberry popsicle I had before lunch. Another, was the presence of a friend I rarely see, and wasn't expecting. He’d heard about me through the San Joaquin grapevine, and there I was with my cat dish on. He hugged me and we talked for awhile—yet more prayers and love.

I’ve been surrounded since the day I was diagnosed with this. I don’t know what I would have done, anywhere else. You do what you need to, and you cope—but this community has been phenomenal.

I took a nap (I’m under orders to rest), got up, checked in with a few other people. Talked with my advisor again, briefly, and told her about yesterday. We walked to the parking lot together, and I went back to Seven Thieves for a Haagen-Dazs bar (though I really wanted another popsicle; they were out). Had dinner shortly after, and now I’m back upstairs. If I know what’s good for me, I’ll go to bed early.

There we are: an easy, grace-filled, restful day. Pretty much what I needed. Tomorrow, I’ll figure out how to bathe, go clothes-shopping, and work on a paper. I may call another faculty, at home; when I called her from Kaiser yesterday, she offered the processing time. Sunday, if I’m up for it, I really want to go to the Episcopal Sanctuary in SF. It’s a homeless shelter, where my advisor’s parish does a weekly Eucharist. She takes groups of us, when she goes. I went once, in April, and loved it. That’s the kind of work I want to do.

I’ll try to tell yesterday’s story, tomorrow. I didn’t set out to write all this; it turned into a narrative, and I couldn’t just stop it in the middle. Perhaps a sign that the Vicodin kicked in, or that I’m more tired than I know.

Tomorrow, if I get to it: medical jail, really bad acupuncture, vampire bites, and safe, competent care.

Peace and love to all.