Waterwoman Knits

Shout out to my global knitting group for their support during a rough week in my corner of the world. I can honestly say this is the first time I have felt truly supported and seen in a group. Thank you all who know who you are! Turns out most of us are the rarest personality type, INFJs, on the Myers-Briggs personality test, and it is very rare for me to find a group of such folks since they represent 1% to 3% of the U.S. population, apparently.

The rough week stuff.

My 15-year-old goldfish died … which was actually my daughter’s goldfish she picked up at a county fair as a young person. I have had fish in my environment all my life since I am allergic to most animals with dander. And I never name them or anthropomorphize them, but I simply appreciate their presence. So when any being has been in your living environment for 15 years (and survived 4 moves), you feel their absence. May they rest in peace.

I can tend to overshare medical stuff since I don’t have a good sense of what grosses people out after having spent 20 years of my life transcribing people’s medical visits for hospitals and spent several years working inside hospitals. The short of it is, I have had five doctor appointments including imaging this year thus far and we’re only in March. I have another scheduled tomorrow.

Every six months I track my work hours and apply for financial assistance directly to medical centers performing my imaging because I simply cannot afford a decade of follow-up past cancer treatment even with insurance.

Nothing too worrisome, but anyone who is a breast cancer survivor will relate. I am four years into a decade on a medication that is intended to prevent recurrence by lowering hormone levels that hormone-positive breast cancers thrive on. That same drug can increase chance of endometrial cancer, which is why many breast cancer patients end up getting either medical or surgical hysterectomy.

Short of it: I am sure I will be having a biopsy soon and then depending on results will likely need surgery. Surgery does not scare me, but having no way to pay for days off work does. I depended on generous GoFundMe donors to fund my cancer surgery recovery time, and I hate to need to do that again. So I will be researching a list of other nonprofits that may be able to help and pray that the Affordable Care Act for my self-pay insurance holds while so many aspects of healthcare and research are in danger of being lost.

My fingers and toes are crossed for all those on Medicaid by any other name since that seems very likely to be threatened. I may also need to go on Medicaid for potential surgery as my income drops to lower than low during a recovery period.

I had a blood draw as part of my workup that was quite disastrous and left me with days of tingling and pain shooting down my left arm to my hand. I can be a tough draw, but this is the first time I believe someone directly hit a nerve that lasts more than a day. Hopeful the nerve will heal soon. Meanwhile I am taking a knitting reprieve as long as I can stand it.

I’ll likely pick it up of course because knitting is truly my best stress relief. Will just refrain from lengthy sessions. Who knows what I’ll have in my next vlog two weeks from now to show?

After 206 job rejections (only two of those applications resulted in interviews), I’ll be applying to work at a local grocery store this week in case the universe is nudging me to do absolutely anything but type all day at this point to support myself.

To all those talented civil servants out there whose lives have been suddenly disrupted and to all young scientists who have lost fellowships or entrance into degree programs you worked years toward due to funding cuts, I see you. Bless you and hang in there until new pathways open, just as I hope for myself.

Three of my poems

Future Self

I went inside and met myself,
gray strands pulled back, crinkling crow’s feet at the eyes,
standing in a garden, sun-kissed and strong.

I asked, “Do you have any wisdom for me?”
She answered, “You will have more freedom.
Life will not always be this hard.”

I asked, “Will love find me?”
She smiled and surrounded me in a hug.

I thanked her and moved into my focused, sedentary, solitary day,
submitting to necessity, containing the knowing
one who walks great distances hearing her part
in the glistening melodies of all creation.
Honoring and cherishing the beauty of the me yet to be.

Cancer

Cancer is the two years after the curly blonde imp
riding the red tricycle on the wood-slat lagoon bridge
bump, bump, bump, back and forth.
The midnight freeway fly to children’s hospital,
gasping to breathe and pale.

Cancer is the two years after sitting in our favorite field,
sneaking up behind to pour fistfuls of grass down my back,
giggling again, again.
The clumps of hair falling,
riding the IV pole down halls.
Barbie movie distraction instead of our grassy field, our lagoon bridge.

Cancer is the two years after playful preschool friends,
trading one community for another,
the city where parents land with sick children suddenly
in the middle of the night, sharing stories
and how the hell did we arrive here?

Cancer is the place we went without choice,
tethered us to grief and grace,
changed who we are, no matter the gifts of
health, freedom, time.

Reverse Origami

If you could unfold a section
and see how the fingertips smoothed the corner
straight and to a point
would you?
In order to hold a peace dove in your palm
you need to fold in half, in half again and unfold,
turn and lift wings, let them fall.
If you could go back,
read instructions mindfully
be fully present,
maybe the dove would look less like an elephant.
Your life might contain another shape,
more coherence,
more symmetry,
more what you intended
so when you look back you are not ashamed of your decisions,
have nothing to run from,
be nowhere but joy.
You need good light to make good origami.
Unfold this beak and see where it takes you
or begin again with a fresh tissue paper square
this one shocking red.