When I arrived at the rehab unit Thursday, Mom had gathered her few belongings into little Walmart bags and stacked them on the bed and along the windowsill. Much as she had done three years ago, when we escaped from Buffalo Creek just as Covid was shutting everything down, she demanded to get out of there! She claims her pain is minimal, her mobility is back to baseline, and she is fundamentally of sound mind so I took her back to her cottage. It’s her life after all! I am lining up some home health care to come by for the afternoon shifts and we’ll see how it goes…
I had been to see my doctor Thursday morning; we had a nice chat - of course it’s hard to determine how many of my symptoms are due to long Covid, stress and anxiety, or lingering hypothyroid symptoms, etc. She took a chest X-ray (which was fine) and settled on an asthma inhaler and a short course of Wellbutrin. “We shall see” - rech in 6 wks
“Relax” by Ellen Bass
Bad things are going to happen.
Your tomatoes will grow a fungus
and your cat will get run over.
Someone will leave the bag with the ice cream
melting in the car and throw
your blue cashmere sweater in the drier.
Your husband will sleep
with a girl your daughter’s age, her breasts spilling
out of her blouse. Or your wife
will remember she’s a lesbian
and leave you for the woman next door. The other cat–
the one you never really liked–will contract a disease
that requires you to pry open its feverish mouth
every four hours. Your parents will die.
No matter how many vitamins you take,
how much Pilates, you’ll lose your keys,
your hair and your memory. If your daughter
doesn’t plug her heart
into every live socket she passes,
you’ll come home to find your son has emptied
the refrigerator, dragged it to the curb,
and called the used appliance store for a pick up–drug money.
There’s a Buddhist story of a woman chased by a tiger.
When she comes to a cliff, she sees a sturdy vine
and climbs half way down. But there’s also a tiger below.
And two mice–one white, one black–scurry out
and begin to gnaw at the vine. At this point
she notices a wild strawberry growing from a crevice.
She looks up, down, at the mice.
Then she eats the strawberry.
So here’s the view, the breeze, the pulse
in your throat. Your wallet will be stolen, you’ll get fat,
slip on the bathroom tiles of a foreign hotel
and crack your hip. You’ll be lonely.
Oh taste how sweet and tart
the red juice is, how the tiny seeds
crunch between your teeth.
