METABOLISM

 

My morning routine: At 8 am my fabulous attendant Tammi arrives. I take off my BiPAP mask, read my sugar and down the morning meds as she drains my Foley bag. Neither of us are morning people, so a single "Hello" suffices. Next, of course, comes Feeding The Cats, who are fidgeting impatiently, one of them on my chest. Then Tammi starts breakfast while I take insulin, check for letters from my sweetheart (in England and already at work), turn on the vitamin D light for half an hour, and hit the internet.

I have an A-list of sites that give me pleasure and/or substance to read. They are perused in this order: XKCD; ANIMALS TALKING ALL IN CAPS; BagNewsNotes; Hullaballoo; Brilliant At Breakfast; WTF Evolution; Clients From Hell; and final treat, NN. I get to raptly read Nancy's musings and links while enjoying breakfast, and digest it while reading the always interesting comments. By that time, I feel prepared to face the day, whether it's PT, nursing visits, begging for social services, or actually finding the energy to write.

I try to live in daily gratitude. It's a necessary counterweight against the fury of poverty. I am deeply grateful for all those in my generation who have refused to succumb to cynicism, isolation, and shame, and who still find a life's meaning in Making Things Better For All Of Us, however we can manage it. I am grateful each month for making rent on time, having a phone line and electricity (I have often gone without those three), for enough to eat and it not being entirely processed crap, for the unpredictability of cats and the unbelievable competence of some social workers & caregivers.

I am lucky beyond words for those who love me, who love me over time and across barriers, who accept my not-so-buried damage and make me laugh. I know to the average stranger, I look like a Lifetime movie gone horribly wrong, with the worst of endings, but most days, I am in fact happy. Pain and want can, for long minutes, be ignored. In my life, imagination has metabolized as endurance.