All That Has Ever Fallen

I started out in a good mood today.

It was a gorgeous autumn day. I got my 250 words done (348 actually). Rebooked our car rental for next month in Las Vegas with Alamo and cancelled with Dollar, who wanted a $350 deposit and would be doing a credit check since I'm using my debit card. Now I don't have to pinch pennies for the next three weeks to make sure there's all that extra money in my account.

But boy did the day get shitty fast.

As I leave to go for my appointment with the urologist, I run into a fomer student of mine. "Hey, Michelle. You're still here?"

I grind my teeth.

Yup.

"Yeah, I've been really sick."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

I find out she's not only got her bachelor's degree, but has her M.A. degree from University of Michigan and lives in Denver and is just home visiting friends and family.

Yup.

One of my students now has a Master's Degree and I don't.

How much more fucking humiliation does this illness have to give me? Instead of a degree I have a cane and an appointment with a urologist.

Oh wait -- don't ask that. The answer is always MORE!

After returning her wish for good luck, I walk a block and a half and realize that I'd forgotten to put my bus tickets into my purse. I walk back as fast as I can to my apartment (which isn't really all that fast, especially when you walk with a cane) and begin rummaging through my desk when my bus tickets aren't on top of the cabinet like they are supposed to be. After a few minutes I give up because I'm going to miss the bus if I don't get down there, so I grab some quarters,and start booking it for the bus stop five blocks away. As I get down there, I realize that I'd left my bus tickets in my purse last week so they were still there.

No Master's Degree and no short term memory...

As I ride the bus across town, I try to calm down. Think about the peace I've made with my illness in this last week (I may explain that in another post.) Think about how if it wasn't for being sick, I never would have met the wonderful lad from Manchester coming next week. Think about how in my own small way, I helped one of my students along in succeeding academically and vocationally (she's now a social worker) . Think about how being ill has allowed me to learn a great deal I never would have in academia.

Upon reaching the doctor's office, I try to check in, but, alas, the appointment is TOMORROW. Now, this one wasn't my fault. The authorization specialist at my clinic who made the appointment gave me the wrong date. In writing (as well as computer processed). (Though, usually she's absolutely brilliant, and I mean that in every sense of the word.) But, as the doctor wasn't even there today, there was nothing to do but turn around and ride the bus back home. But when you have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, energy is like money, and I'd just wasted a good wad.

After an hour or so at home where I chatted with my boyfriend and watched shorts with him at IFILM over the phone, I head down for my acupuncture appointment and was greeted with a lengthy, detailed bit of paperwork to fill out at the front desk because they just started a new computer system and need me to fill it out ALL OVER AGAIN since for some reason, the same damn paperwork I filled out two months ago doesn't exist anymore.

Down in the acupuncture clinic, they are on the new computer system too so I have to fill them in on the five month long urinary tract/kidney infection ordeal so they can enter it all in the computer. After checking my pulses, tongue, etc. they think I probably have a kidney infection, but want to wait until I see the urologist tomorrow before giving me any heavy duty herbs that might knock it out.

Yeah, my right kidney has started hurting again. Just a little bit. But enough to make sleeping more difficult the last few nights than it was the week before.

Though, I feel exhausted now and think I my try and give it shot.

However, during my time on the bus this afternoon, I saw another cool poem, which I will leave you with tonight.

A TURN TO THE RIGHT, A LITTLE WHITE LIGHT

Let there be a season when no one rakes
when all that has ever fallen can drift
with ordinary wings. Mithras, I hear you
out in the open, humming our favorite tune
through a leaf and a comb.
Lead us as if we were righteous
into the blue light of heaven
where no one will forgive anyone
just in case it's condescending,
and we will love each other
to the withered toes.

Carolyn Reynolds Miller