The human mess

I was rather shocked recently to discover that I have become one of those people who have a lot of things wrong with them.  Shocked because I have always been (or thought of myself as) extraordinarily healthy and strong.

I've had well-behaved bunions on both feet for ever so long, but recently one of them has swelled to the point that it looks as though there is a marble under my skin.  It's pushing my toes out of alignment, causing painful calluses and corns to develop.  This is a problem because of how much I love to walk, which is now more challenging on some days.  I've got an appointment with a podiatrist in my calendar and am hoping for some relief, although I'm pretty certain I want to avoid surgery if at all possible.

A few weeks ago I discovered a hard, rough little bump on my forearm.  It didn't itch or hurt and was annoying mostly because of just being there.  Recently it began to look infected and to be painful whenever I would accidently bump against something.  Last week I went to my dermatologist to have it removed so now I have a big old divot in my arm.

On the same day as that derm. visit, a sore place on my gums developed into an abscess, which grew until it burst.  Fortunately my dentist was able to see me the next day.  The swelling is mostly gone and there doesn't seem to be anything to be concerned about, although he couldn't say what had caused it.

It didn't help that these second two issues occurred at the same time Sweet Hubby and I were going through a 3 day power outage, so moving from our cold dark house into a motel room.  I also had an acting audition for a role in a feature film, which had to be recorded and submitted by the end of that very bad day.  It all felt like a lot at once.

I promise this will be my only organ recital in this blog (although if we have lunch together you might hear about some of it again).  I'm mostly writing about all of this because of how it has affected my spirit.  I feel more vulnerable now, less assured of my health and strength.  These issues have all been, or soon will be (I hope) successfully resolved and my energy is restored, with a few adjustments for my aching feet, but I am keenly aware now that there will be more issues to come.  I don't know what they will look like, when they will show themselves, how bad they might become.  I just know that they are waiting for me.

Okay.  I'm human and mortal and it's messy.  Okay.   Bring it on.

 

Time to talk about it

Here are some random thoughts that have been floating through my mind since the election:

It's time for me to give up the idea that I can change anybody's mind.  I've known that for a long time, but now I really get it on a deeper level of insight.  People have to change their own minds.  Because of that, I'm hoping the country goes to shit right away.  That will be bad for everyone, but maybe - only maybe - it will wake up the people who have become entranced by what they believe Trump to be, or what they believe he will do.

Although I will certainly take part in symbolic actions, such as marches, I am going to be vigilant in searching for concrete actions I can take.  Action is the great antidote to depression and feelings of powerlessness.  Very important for me/all of us to remember that we are not powerless and voiceless.

Things are going to go very badly for Ukraine, with probable withdrawal of U.S. military support, so one of those actions I'm going to take is to write to NATO to urge that body to accept Ukraine as a member.  If Russia takes over Ukraine, especially after its almost uncontested Crimean grab, Putin will no doubt be emboldened to take over other countries/territories as well.    https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/198183.htm  

At my best, I've very, very curious to see how these next couple of years unfold.  At my worst, I'm full of despair.  But my despair doesn't help anything and hurts me.  My rage only adds darkness to the world.  That's not who I want to be.  So I'm working on curiosity.

I'm currently reading "Killers of the Flower Moon", an excellent nonfiction account of the investigation into the murders of Osage Indians, which were orchestrated mostly by one man who wanted the rights to their oil-rich land.  This book has reminded me that throughout all of human history there have been men (maybe some women, too, but mostly men) greedy for power and money.  This era is not an anomaly.  It just happens to be the era I/we are living through, so it feels more real and urgent, disgraceful and wrong.  Corruption in business and government is nothing new.

I believe, and my experience is, that most people are good and kind and friendly and honest.  But kindness is quiet; anger and bullying are noisy.  Noise makes the news, which is why it's so easy to have a skewed perspective on what's going on in the world.  I need to continue to approach people with an eye to their humanity, to reach across whatever divide there might be between us.

"A defeat doesn't mean you're defeated."  Joe Biden  

The patient died

 A friend shared this a few days before the election:

HOLDING VIGIL

 My cousin asks if I can describe this moment,

the heaviness of it, like sitting outside

the operating room while someone you love

is in surgery and you’re on those awful plastic chairs

eating flaming Doritos from the vending machine

which is the only thing that seems appealing to you, dinner-wise,

waiting for the moment when the doctor will come out

in her scrubs and face-mask, which she’ll pull down

to tell you whether your beloved will live or not. That’s how it feels

as the hours tick by, and everyone I care about

is texting me with the same cold lump of dread in their throat

asking if I’m okay, telling me how scared they are.

I suppose in that way this is a moment of unity,

the fact that we are all waiting in the same

hospital corridor, for the same patient, who is on life support,

and we’re asking each other, Will he wake up?

Will she be herself? And we’re taking turns holding vigil,

as families do, and bringing each other coffee

from the cafeteria, and some of us think she’s gonna make it

while others are already planning what they’ll wear to the funeral,

which is also what happens at times like these,

and I tell my cousin I don’t think I can describe this moment,

heavier than plutonium, but on the other hand,

in the grand scheme of things, I mean the whole sweep

of human history, a soap bubble, because empires

are always rising and falling, and whole civilizations

die, they do, they get wiped out, this happens

all the time, it’s just a shock when it happens to your civilization,

your country, when it’s someone from your family on the respirator,

and I don’t ask her how she’s sleeping, or what she thinks about

when she wakes at three in the morning,

cause she’s got two daughters, and that’s the thing,

it’s not just us older people, forget about us, we had our day

and we burned right through it, gasoline, fast food,

cheap clothing, but right now I’m talking about the babies,

and not just the human ones, but also the turtles and owls

and white tigers, the Redwoods, the ozone layer,

the icebergs for the love of God—every single

blessed being on the face of this earth

is holding its breath in this moment,

and if you’re asking, can I describe that, Cousin,

then I’ve gotta say no, no one could describe it

we all just have to live through it,

holding each other’s hands.

 

—from Poets Respond.   Rattle Magazine Alison Luterman

Trying to understand

Every election year Sweet Hubby and I re-watch "The West Wing".  Last night we were watching an episode in the final season, which is about the campaign for a new President.  Both the Democratic and Republican candidates were men of intelligence and integrity.  When the Rep. lost the race, his staff urged him to contest the vote, but he refused, even though he had possible cause (the sudden death of the Dem. VP candidate). 

Watching this, I was suddenly overcome by an anguish which has been simmering below the surface of my soul since 2015, when it felt to me that half the country had gone insane and embraced a vile, lying, ignorant, narcissistic, mean-spirited bully as their hero and President.  Sometimes this anguish boils over, as it did last night.  "How is this possible?  How is this possible?  How is this possible?" I sobbed.  "I don't understand."

When I went to the back of the house to compose my mind, I found myself thinking of a minor incident from earlier that day.  During a workout class, I had mentioned to the instructor that my thigh muscles were cramping during one exercise.  She said "That's because they're working.  You're just not used to exercise."

I instantly felt insulted and defensive.  How dare she?  I workout 5-7 times every week.  I'm extremely fit for someone my age.  She's young, she doesn't understand that muscle cramps are a fact of elder life.  I didn't say any of that, of course, because that first reaction was followed almost at once by  some clearer thinking.  I knew she meant no harm, was responding to my comment in the way she knows to.  That first reaction was purely visceral; then my brain kicked in and smoothed my ruffled feathers with perspective and understanding.

I realized that every one of us is subject to those instant visceral reactions of fear and anger.  And I thought: maybe some people simply get stuck in those reactions, aren't able to move past them by examining them, thinking more critically, more wisely and clearly.

And so I began to have some understanding of how it is that a massive portion of the population can get excited about shallow, inflammatory  rhetoric full of dog whistles and triggers and simple answers.  That understanding  really helped me.  I could see that the main source of my anguish isn't because of how these Trump fanatics are behaving (however egregious that might be).  It's because of how hard it is for me to understand their behavior.  Once I can understand something, I can deal with it.  It's the not understanding that makes me feel so loony.

Adoring the Rainbow

Randy Rainbow is so amazingly talented.  Also clever, funny, insouciant, sarcastic, witty, charming, snarky, sly ,iconoclastic, and cute as a sack of gay kittens.  He is also deeply committed to liberal politics.

Every parody song he creates is an attempt to wake up the rest of us.  He shines a spotlight on what has gone so terribly wrong in politics since the rise of Trump and MAGA.  He points out the hypocrisy, the cruelty, the ignorance, the bullying behaviors, the noise and anger, the lying lying lying of the far right wing of the Republican party.  And he does it in the most delicious, fun, and flippant way possible, without scolding, without dark drama and dire predictions.  He is really trying to get through to us all, while making sure we still love him and want to be in his company.  Amazing.

If you haven't seen his latest, Blank Slate, I highly recommend you watch it.  The tune is Taylor Swift's (bouncy and memorable); the lyrics are pure Rainbow.   (Be warned that Randy does have a sponsor now, so there is an endorsement in the middle of the video, but it doesn't interrupt the song). 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5CzYt-WuCCA 

Closing up

The last few months of my dad's life, after he had been moved into a very nice senior living place where someone from the family visited almost every day, he settled into watching, over and over, the same old Universal Studio black and white horror films.  King Kong.  Frankenstein. The Bride of Frankenstein.  The Mummy.  Dracula.  He had memorized these films long before I was even born, and they never ceased to delight him.  

Quite recently, I became aware of a feeling, or maybe an insight, which allowed me to understand why he loved to disappear into these movies.  I think I understand now what it will be to want to withdraw from the world, a world that I don't feel I quite belong to any more; a world that is no longer mine.  I can foresee wanting to be quiet, to be surrounded by things that comfort me with their familiarity.  Things that I understand.  I can feel what it might be like to sort of shrug and let the world take care of itself.  I can tell that in the future there could well be a time when I will want just to close up, much more slowly than a sea anemone, but gradually and steadily.  I will want to be surrounded by what I know and am comfortable with. 

I'm certainly not ready for that yet.  I am always on the prowl for new experiences: new restaurants and foods, new music, new theater, new people, new places to explore.  I still have plays to write.  I still have friends I love, and my family, and my darling kitties and Sweet Hubby.  I'm still willing to make the effort to travel, to have get togethers, to exercise, to write birthday and holiday cards, to dance my ass off, to do something new.  But someday...

Oh well.  I will let the world take care of itself.  I guess whatever happens will happen naturally, so why fight it?  

I fall down

This morning I was coming down the stairs from the living room to the front door, a case of seven treads I've gone up and down several times a day for fourteen years.  And on the second to last tread, for some reason, I stepped into midair and fell right down onto the tile floor, sort of on my side, with my head leaning on the door.

In the movies and on TV, falls like this are usually shown in slow motion, and one can see the many ways the falling person might save herself.  Not so in real life.  This happened so fast.  

Sweet Hubby was right there, and I think this was terrifying for him, because for an instant he didn't know if this fall would be fatal.  I knew in an instant that it wasn't, and after a quick self-assessment, I laughed and assured him over and over that I was all right.  It took some time but eventually we were both smiling and laughing, with me making a joke about how I don't want SH to come up with some plan to assure that this never happens again, and SH joking back that the plan already exists, as he pointed to the handrails.  

Now, hours later, I have a slightly abraded bruise on my left forearm and absolutely no other damage.  I'm glad I didn't hit my head on the floor, and I'm glad I exercise as often as I do, because my bones are still strong.  So it all turned out just fine, and now it's just another story.

Someday something is going to happen.  It might be as fast as today's fall, and it might be slow and take a long time.  Personally, I'd prefer slow and long.  However unpleasant it might get at the end, I do like the idea of being able to say my good-byes.  I won't know until I get there, of course, how it's going to go.  But someday something is going to happen.  I'm just glad that today wasn't the day and this was not the thing.