Corners, pruning, and Mr. Toad...

I have definitely turned the corner, though I wish fervently I did not run out of decongestant.  I got in the car to fetch some more, backed out of the garage, woozily drove down the alley, and ended up circling the block to park back in the garage.  I am not quite ready to be solely responsible for steering tons of metal.  But the blessed corner has been turned!

After a rather frustrating two weeks of trying to get the agent who signed me up for Medicare to call me back, I realized there must be a one-time benefit for signing someone up, rather than actually continuing to help.  So, I called the company I am with and asked about continuing coverage.  Even with the co-pay increases and new prescription coverage premium, the plan is still my best option.  I will not rest easy until I have my coverage letter in hand (those go out late December), I have re-enrolled and requested the premium come out of my disability, so I will not be responsible for remembering to pay another monthly bill.

After failing to explain my need to the prescription coverage rep for 37 minutes, I finally got her to understand that I wanted the 2014 authorization forms for the prescriptions I currently have that need authorization so that I can get them taken care of the first week of January.  Sadly, I am not allowed to have the forms mailed to me.  They must be faxed or mailed to the doctor's office.  [Part of the two-month authorization battle is that faxes to the doctor's office went untended.]  So, I set up two reminders to call for those faxes to be sent 3 business days before my December 30th appointment to my doctor.  Two arduous months of getting those authorizations left unhappy folk at both the pharmacy and my doctor's office.  It is my goal to get them done for 2014 with less tears and less folk angry with me.

When I was finished with all that phone calling, I burst into tears.  Sometimes, it is so very difficult for me to swallow how little I can do and how small my life has become.  I started volunteering when I was a pre-teen and spend so much of my life doing things.  I find it nearly impossible to just be.

My friend Celia sent me this really ... encouraging-to-Myrtle ... article, which I have read several times.  It is helpful to read of such similar struggles, even if I genuinely would not wish debilitating, unfamiliar-to-many-medical-folk chronic illness.  It's hard to face.  It's hard to live.  It's hard to explain.  It's hard to have to ... defend.

I really was worried, on Saturday, because it was yet another day in which I felt worse than the day before.  Add a cold to the usual challenge of living and you add that proverbial straw to the camel's back.  I couldn't imagine another day of knives stabbing my throat.  [I've said before and will say again, I cannot fathom how anyone faces chemo.]  I know it wasn't just the the cold; I know it was the cold on top of everything else.  But that did not really penetrate the fog of cold misery piled upon my other bodily miseries.  And the deepening of fatigue that is already overwhelming.

I have coached myself to think long-term on the corner turning, to be patient with getting completely better.  Lots of reminding about this would be helpful.  To think about where I no longer am rather that where I am not yet.

Sometime during the aching, sneezing, coughing, and fevered days, my burning bushes started to burn.  Seeing them made me realize that my river is going to be covered in leaves soon.  That was not something I foresaw when planning it.  However, I still really, really like hanging out with the turtles, frogs, and toads ... even though Amos is still afeared of them.  Amos has, however, been doing his best the get the river flowing, one visit at a time.

Tonight, Amos took off at a run toward the back gate, a sure sign that some INTERLOPER was in his territory.  I chased after him, afraid the GINORMOUS dog was in the yard.  I should have known better.  The only INTERLOPER that has not frightened Amos is that blasted cat who destroyed the fern I grew atop my beloved water fountain.  Since I put the pump away, the cat has been drinking out of the water basin in the curve of the rock river.  Gasping for breath, I fell to the grass and waited for Amos to water a few bushes.  When I stood up and turned back to the house, I saw the burning bushes in all their glory.  I wish I had my camera or phone with me, for surely they have peaked.  What gave me the strength to haul myself back inside once Amos was finished his business was seeing the properly and proportionally pruned bushes.

Three summers of working on them have them right-sized and a true asset to the yard, rather than the overgrown eyesores they were when I moved in here.  Amos agreed with me and showed his appreciation for the proper pruning by trotting over to water both of them one last time.  My, how he loves being able to walk beneath them now.  I love no longer seeing that pernicious ground cover that basically junked up the space and took away from the bushes' beauty.  I actually think the birds liked my work, too, because there are three nests in the two bushes.

Thinking about the bushes, I am grateful that I was stronger when I first moved here.  Else wise, taking the bushes down by 2/3rds over nearly three years, trimming up the bottoms, ripping out the ground cover, and putting in the rock river could not have been done.

I already asked.  Firewood Man said he would clear off the leaves once the bushes, weeping cherry, Rose of Sharons, and the ornamental magnolia tree are naked.  I cannot rake or bag leaves anymore.  I doubt I could even hold the blower long enough to even clear off the rock river once it's covered.  [Who knew two amps could be so very powerful??]

Anyway, I concentrated on being thankful for what I could do then as opposed to what I cannot now.  For, now, I can sit on the back steps, awaiting Amos' productivity, and savor my rock river, its rock inhabitants, and a long-term pruning/shaping job well done.

Mr. Toad, with whom I often chat whilst sitting on the back steps, asked if I were going to be applying the pruning shears to the pink bush, seeing as it has overgrown his perch.

I replied that pruning would mean less blooms, so I though he should enjoy his respite from the summer sun.  Of course, the bush will get naked soon, too, so maybe Mr. Toad will be seeking cover elsewhere as it is.

If you look closely at the middle photo, you will see that the bush (whatever it is) is still proving me blooms to admire.  So, you understand, then, why I've not applied the shears?


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!