What a Weekend!

Oh my oh my oh my oh my.  A weekend of emotional highs and lows.

Dunkin’ Donuts opened up an outlet 2.8 miles from my house!  What joy!  Heretofore forced to travel 17 miles round trip to secure my sweet sweet DD fix, I very often choked down Starbucks coffee. 

I am NOT a fan.

But I AM a fan of Dunkin Donuts and am thrilled someone FINALLY opened one up nearby!  HIGH!

I started my weekend at 3am Saturday morning.  I was scheduled to spend an hour in front of the Blessed Sacrament.  Last month, not enough people signed up and Father was called and sat with the Blessed Sacrament between 1am and 4am.  So this month, as we got closer to First Friday and All Night Adoration, the President of my Legion of Mary presidium asked us all to sign up for an hour.  I picked 3am.  I always enjoy it when I go, I get so much out of it.  So much peace.  Hard to explain to anyone who isn’t Catholic; sometimes just as difficult to explain to Catholics.

So I’ll just say go.  Catholic or not.  Go.  Sit.  You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.  Just sit. 

Anyway, though I woke up and got there late, I arrived and I spent an hour.  I said some Divine Mercy prayers; appropriate to the 3:00 o’clock hour and came away feeling really peaceful and good.  I enjoy it so much I always come away saying I’m going to go next time - then I rarely do.  But when I got home, it was so quiet, no cars yet on the road in the Land of Traffic, and all I could hear were the early birds starting to sing. 

I went back to bed.  HIGH!

At 7:30 am, I called my son; on his way to upstate New York his vacation.  He was driving up from South Carolina and I figured he’d be close to his destination. 

“Hey, buddy, how’s it going?”

“I totaled my car.”

Pause.

“When?”

“6:30am”  It’s the kind of low a parent doesn’t ever want to have; it’s always in the back of our mind, we always pray we don’t get that phone call or that knock on the door.  Low. 

Apparently, a deer ran out in front of him, and he swerved to avoid hitting it.  When he turned to come back, he overcorrected and went off the road into something of a ravine, but at that point he was airborne, hit a tree about 5 feet off the ground and totaled his car. 

That detached account does not relay the panic and anxiety that I felt while he was telling me this, and I kept hoping he was just going to tell me he was joking and that he was nearly there.  He was not joking.  But he was on the phone.  He was alive.  Complaints about totaling his car were like music to me; the alternative was unthinkable.  High and low all jumbled up.

He had already dealt with the police, filed the report, called his insurance company – they were immediately supportive.  Miraculously, he sustained no injuries at all and his brother was already on the way to pick him up.  I learned later that the tow truck driver told my son he should think about going to church on Sunday.  He was lucky he walked away. 

Highs and lows.  Highs and lows.

Bearing Down

I had a dream last Saturday night that begged for interpretation.

I was driving in upstate New York, likely the NYS Thruway between Utica and Herkimer.  There was an unidentified little girl in the front passenger seat and my seventeen year old daughter was in the back seat, with her head up near the front so she could talk to me.  I was traveling east on the Thruway and it was dusk.  The sky had a sort of clear purple color that was darkening.  I looked into the rearview mirror and saw a tremendous black tornado bearing down on the car (looked exactly like the above picture – it’s like someone was in my brain and snapped a photo.).

For one second, I pressed on the gas and thought I could outrun it.  My daughter saw it behind us and shouted at me to go faster.  Wasn’t going to work though.  I looked on both sides of the car for a place to hide.  There was a small shallow ditch on the driver side and a deeper wider expanse on the passenger side.  It was doubtful that we would be able to get out of the car and get to a place low enough before the tornado consumed us.

At this point, I was conscious enough to begin to manipulate the dream, getting us into the big ditch to safety.  I do not consider this part of the actual dream since I woke myself up. 

I dream a lot, but it’s only the dreams that stick that are the ones that cry out to our conscious to be clarified.  This one demanded to be understood.

Was I running from something?  Was something bearing down on me?  Was it prophetic – were there storms on the way of which I was blissfully unaware? 

I rarely have luck interpreting my own dreams – my daughter is good at it, Starbuck is good at it, but it is Guest Blogger-who-hasn’t-blogged-for-me-in-years who has a remarkable sense of what my dreams mean.  And she should – I do the same for her; we’ve been translating each other’s dreams for years.  We have a good sense of personal symbolism and the sort of things that tic our subconscious. 

So my daughter considered that I had been viewing my past – one full of turmoil and upheaval, the future was ahead and clear and I was driving right into it.  Not bad.  Starbuck wondered the what the tornado could symbolize.  Guest Blogger-who-hasn’t-blogged-for-me-in-years just smiled and said, “The tornado is time.”

You could have punched me in the gut.  That’s when I know an interpretation is on the mark.  It feels right.  The ah-ha moment.

Step aside for a moment to consider – oldest son is married and doing well in his work, pursuing a degree in human services.  Middle boy has just graduated the most difficult educational program the Navy has to offer – Nuclear Engineering – and will be headed out into the murky depths within a year.  But now - the baby that I nursed those years ago is graduating high school in less than a month, and soon to embark on higher education, a major life change on her horizon.

The tornado is Time.  It’s bearing down on me.  The little girl in the front seat is my daughter as a toddler and she’s also in the back seat, a woman.  Me?  Arthritis.  Progressive Lenses.  Middle age.  Wrinkles.  Surprised at the changes when they crop up.  Identifying them.  Combating them.  Coming to terms with them.  Then enjoying it when I see others as they find themselves on the same track.

The tornado is Time.  I can’t outrun it, and though I didn’t realize it, I still try.  I realized though, that as my daughter is headed toward a new and entirely unchartered course in her life, so am I. 

Time.  I was a daughter for 19.5 years.  A wife for 15 years.  Caretaker of the same dog for 16 years.  But I’ve been a mother of dependent children for coming up on 25 years. 

Time.  This is going to be new and unchartered for me too.  It’s pretty exciting.  No bailing out of the car on this one.  It’s time.

I Gotta Tell Ya

I received several suggestions from dear friends and readers on how to self-treat my self-diagnosed arthritis.  I even had a gifted Doctor of Linguistics urge me to eschew the castor oil and go to an MD.  

Having outright self-rejected the lukewarm water enemas, I decided last week to break down and buy Glucosamine Chondroitin.  CVS had a buy one get one sale on some brand that had 50 extra pills in it, so I figured, deal deal!  $21 for one bottle though, so you know the markup has to be stupid.  Bitter when I read that it would take 4-6 weeks to kick in.  Tomorrow will mark one week of near-religious dosage.

I gotta tell you, I’m feeling some alleviation of my symptoms!  I didn’t expect to, so I don’t think it’s a placebo effect.  Make no mistake; there’s still some pain but it isn’t as sharp as it was last week.  I’m not perpetually rubbing my thumb and elbow and I’m not downing Excedrin at all.  I am now enthusiastic about my self-prognosis. 

It was a busy weekend otherwise; my daughter’s prom went nearly without a hitch - - $75 up-do fail caused some drama for a half hour, but that was quickly fixed.  Otherwise, last minute boutonnieres, makeup and toe nail polish were executed with perfection and a good time was had by all. 

Monday started splendidly, the weather was fine and my colleague and I were feeling adventurous.  We investigated a highly touted food court and I was pleased with the salad bar.  For about an hour.   Until it started shooting right through me.  When it threatened to shoot out multiple orifices, I decided it was time to go home.  Chicken broth is a lot better for dinner than I thought.  I was better by evening.

Today, Wednesday, I was feeling bright and perky.  One of my bosses suggested we take advantage of another local establishment’s Wednesday special of Singapore Noodles.  A favorite of mine since my days in Alexandria.  I took him up on it and enjoyed every bite.  For about an hour.  I’m back in the bathroom. 

I’ve ruled out cholera, typhoid fever, parasites and salmonella and have dramatically self-diagnosed amoebic dysentery.  Not really, but it’s certainly taking my mind off of the arthritis. 

Eager Arthritis Homeopathy

I have not been stricken with a headache since earlier in the week, but I am still suffering with the joint pain, which I have decided is arthritis.  I attribute this pleasure to both parents and their damnable arthritis-laden dna strands.  Yet another hurdle placed on the track of my life. 

I’m game enough to see if I can find an alternative remedy for my self-diagnosis.  What you should take away from this is:

1. I’m young enough to I think I can tough out the pain
2. I’m too cheap to buy Glucosamine Chondroitin
3. I’m too cheap to pay the $20 copay to get a real diagnosis
4. I’m still in denial of my aging process.

When I got home Wednesday evening, I was in enough discomfort to give the “warm olive oil rub” a try.  I had some in the cupboard, so it wasn’t like I had to go out and buy it (cheeeeeep cheeeeep cheeeeep).  At the same time, and just to play it safe, I took 200 mgs of ibuprofen as well.  The olive oil was nicely soothing, I wrapped my thumb in an old sock (NOT the alien master race vehicle that IS red flannel!) and I sensed an alleviation in my symptoms.  Well that was easy!  I felt the smugness of the effortlessly triumphant as I fell easily into sleep.

The next day, I remembered I had taken ibuprofen so I wasn’t sure if the that took away the pain or the olive oil did.  Craaaaaap.

Last night, in an effort to test the truth of the olive oil cure, I decided to go anti-inflammatory-free and just put the lovely warm oil on my thumb and elbow.  I wrapped my happy sock around the thumb, and waited for the magic to happen.  It didn’t.  Awwwwwww,craaaaap.

I want to avoid using aspirin and ibuprofen to excess, since I can envisage my stomach lining disintegrating, it’s molecules wafting up then bursting into nothingness.  I’d like to exhaust all my “already have the stuff at home” methods.  The olive oil tanked and I have vinegar, so I’ll try the “warm vinegar rub” tonight…see if that works. 

If that proves a disappointment, my next grocery list will include ginger (for ginger tea), some cayenne pepper, and castor oil (where do you buy castor oil?). 

You know I will keep you posted, and I welcome suggestions.  As long as it doesn’t blister me, corrode my skin, is made of blechy eggs or gets me arrested, I might give it a try.  However, there’s still no way I’m going to squirt lukewarm water up my backside. 

Craaaaaaaaap, indeed.

Oh for Bleep’s Sake

Yeah, so the headache stuck through yesterday.  Better today and I’m glad of it.  I decided that it must be the result of some sort of monster pollen engineered by Mother Nature as a response to animal hormone injections, airplane contrails, biotech corn killing off the monarch butterfly population, terrorist activity or alien master race implantation.

Not really.  But I do think the pollen is nasty this year. 

However, my complaint du jour is not the government-assisted ragweed.  It is joint pain.  Pain in the thumb and elbow of my left arm.  And because I know how it works (the finger bone’s connected to the hand bone, the hand bone’s connected to the arm bone, the arm bone’s connected to the shoulder bone, them bones, oh them skeleton bones), I’m expecting the crippling effects of arthritis to debilitate my shoulder tomorrow.  I’m envisioning my left hand gnarling up and hardening any day now.

The good news is that my left hand is not dominant, so I will be able to sign my social security checks and swat at mouthy children.  I also look forward to getting a handicap designation for my car.  I’m all for looking at the silver lining.

In the meantime, I’m investigating homeopathic remedies.  Some appear to be very soothing, others are a little, uhm…no.  The lukewarm enema for a few days to flush out my system?  A big fat NO.  The nettle soup doesn't sound too easy to make.  The water and potato juice drink…ew.  I could rub warm olive oil on the effected areas, or possibly warm vinegar.  I'll smell like a salad.  I'm unwilling to spend $20 for a few glucosamine chondroitin tablets.  For now anyway.  If it gets bad enough, I might.  So expensive though. 

I think I'll try the olive oil rub tonight.  See if it helps.  Oh, and I could wrap it in RED flannel.  I don't know why exactly it has to be RED flannel.  I get the flannel part – soft and warm – it’s nice.  I’m unschooled, though, in the medicinal properties of the red dye.  Maybe it makes it WARMER.  Maybe it seeps into your warmed pores, lays red eggs, feeds on the inflammation, then exudes alien master race spores into the atmosphere causing the monster pollen that will give me another two-day headache. 

I’m just not sure. But I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have any red flannel handy.

Blah

I’m sleepy today; the result of nodding off on my couch in an awkward position with the television left on.  The by-product - a bad night, a tired day, a sore neck and a dull ache that won’t relinquish it’s hold on my poor poor head. 

A night of busy dreams about teeth.  Teeth of all things.  This could mean several things I suppose;

1. metaphorically – perhaps I need to “sink my teeth” into a problem;
2. emotionally – for all I know I may have anxiety about the way I am perceived by others;
3. perceptually – conceivably there was an infomercial on at some point in the night about teeth whitening that my subconscious picked up;
4. prophetically – an old acquaintance of mine is a dentist – it may be that I will receive and email or;
5. physically - maybe I just need to make an dental appointment. 

Regardless, I’ve been lacking the enthusiasm that usually sparks the day and have felt apologetic.  A little revived this afternoon, I’m still fuzzy and off my game.  Not the end of the world.  She’s awfully tiny and speaks in a tentative whisper, but my inner optimist tells me that tomorrow I will better appreciate the warmth of the sun, the clearness of my head, and life in general.  It’s all good.

Yeah.  I’ll be better tomorrow.  Wait and see.

The Flu

It might just be me. 

“They” don’t want to call it the Swine Flu anymore – I don’t know if that’s in deference to our Jewish and Muslim friends who find pork  offensive or if “they” wanted to be more clinically accurate in referring to this lovely strain as H1N1.

I can’t help myself.  I now read it as “heiney”. 

Yeah.  Probably just me.