Posterous theme by Cory Watilo

Saturday Afternoon Blues

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Blue skies.

Bright blue skies.

Outside my bedroom deck and small windows I see blue.

Some green from the trees adds a connection to the ground, whereas the white (fluffy) clouds drift by leaving no connections but to themselves.

My GP yelled at me in her gentle voice. No loud yells, just a worried tone remonstrating me because I avoided dealing with my Addison's and made myself much more sick. So a steroid shot upon reaching home, an extra dose of pills yesterday, and another shot today.

Three separate minor infections around my outer ear. Bruising appearing on my legs out of nowhere. And odd open small areas of skin I've never touched for the dermatologist to look at and tell me they mean nothing. Though bruises appearing like those clouds with areas that look picked at may mean nothing, they're certainly still abnormal enough to cause a second look.

A person I care about very much nearly died this week. We had plans to meet so I could use my last Souley Vegan voucher on a meal with her and James. When I contacted her to confirm she responded she was in the hospital after a series of events that nearly ended up with her death. Instead I luckily could take the lead and treat her, her mom, and James. It went over my voucher but the cost was minor to what it nearly was.

Last night after James had gone to his room to sleep after we had a full evening of discussion wrapped around the documentary "Shut Up Little Man!" there were noises that added to my encroaching full on screaming from the heebie-jeebies panic attack which I finally realized was merely the loud reverberations from his snoring and the echoes from his fairly empty, and thus echoey, room. Still had the panic attack but at least I wasn't hearing things from losing my mind.

It feels at such times as though I'm in yet another David Lynch movie. I've already been in so many! It gets tiresome. And worrisome. I wonder at such times where the breakdown began.

The whippets leading me to scare the hell out of Steven? The beach, full moon, making out with Aba where he swears he and so many others saw the Mother Ship? The car rolling over after jerking back and forth after the single sound of the double "Oh Shit!" and the crawling through the ketchup blood? Earlier? Later?

Rachel jumped. Diane jumped. Barrett with a hole in his heart. Fidelia hanging against the mirror on her door. Ivan and his lungs filled with fluid. Emma thrown from the back of a pickup. Del and Kathy in the car with me, one thrown, one crushed. The list stretches far back and in some way it stretches even further forward.

But my friend skipped the odds. I couldn't let go of her hand when we were finally alone and she could open up her heart to share how close and bad it was. I hope I tmissed those bullets? Because I keep wanting to cry from a mixture of fear and relief and an overflowing of love.

The air coming through my door and window brushes past me, feeling oh so lovely. Other words might fit but lovely fits ch better than most others currently. Refreshing. Light. Cool. Pleasant.

I keep falling asleep. So stopping here. Before I fall asleep yet again in the midst of my writing. Over and over.

Definitely must get a booster steroid injection. ŸI'm feeling this adrenal crisis escalating beyond the floating bruises. And so forth.

Do you share the blue skies?