KINDA SCARY MEDICAL PROFILE

          I just printed out my medical “profile” as posted by the surgeon who may or may not perform surgery on my right wrist. Perhaps because I was a new patient to him, his “notes” listed every single thing that’s been and is now wrong with me. Under “Past Medical History,” there are twenty-five notations. Under “Patient Active Problem List,” there are twenty-nine subjects. And, okay, some of those were repeated from the past history list. 

Still, it’s just a bit alarming to count the number of problems and to realize I have ALL these things wrong with me. Sheesh. I thought I was in fairly good health. True, I never check the first choice when asked about my health, but I do always check the second box which, to me, means my health is pretty good. It’s also true that I was/am aware of every single thing on the list. I guess just seeing it listed out, one after the other, in alphabetical order no less, made me pause and wonder how I’m still up and walking around.

I also guess that seeing the “Active Problem” kinda sent me round the bend. It is true that every single thing listed is applicable to me, but so many of them don’t really deserve the “active” connotation, at least in my opinion. I guess I’ll save this printed copy and take it with me the next time I see my Personal Care Provider. Meanwhile, I’m going to continue on as I have been…taking it one day at a time and, for the most part, feeling perfectly fine. 

FEELING JOYFUL

 

         While I may have felt “forlorn” in my last blog post, it’s definitely not the way I was feeling Thursday evening. I was feeling very loved and very fortunate to be my granddaughter’s Nana. But first, a little background.

Some time ago, I made an appointment for Kuma to be groomed. Just a couple weeks ago, I had to make an appointment for an MRI for myself; and wouldn’t you know, it had to be the same day as Kuma’s appointment, although at a different time. Regardless, I wouldn’t be able to pick Kuma up in a timely manner when his grooming was finished.

So, I called granddaughter Haley and asked if she could pick Kuma up after she got off work. She agreed to do so. I was most grateful, and when we had a conversation the day before, she suggested we have Mexican food after I got back home. Sounded great to me.

Haley picked up Kuma and came back to my house. I had my MRI and managed to make it back home from Bellevue by 5:00 pm. Haley and I had already decided we’d go to the Mexican restaurant just up the road from here…her favorite food is Mexican. I figured I’d buy since she picked up Kuma for me. I was wrong because Haley said she’d told me she was buying when the subject of dinner came up.

So, I had a delicious Mexican dinner with Haley which included a Marguerita. Being treated by my grown-up granddaughter was a wonderful pleasure, but the absolute best part was the time she spent with me and the conversation we shared. 

       I cherish these experiences with her even though we may not talk about anything that’s earth-shattering or world changing. Just having her share this time, which included so much laughter and discussion about our mutual interests and futures means so much to me. The next time I feel “forlorn,” I must remember this delightful dinner and the warmth, love and joy it engendered.

FEELING FORLORN

 

It’s the fifth day of the new year and I’m feeling forlorn. This feeling won’t last because I won’t allow it to, but meanwhile, I do, I feel forlorn.

It’s hard being a widow, being alone day after day with no other human to share events, experiences and even just the daily minutia. It’s lonely and the weekly check-ins and visits by family members and friends does little to assuage being alone on a daily basis. My various activities do keep me busy, but at the end of the activity, I’m still coming home to a house whose emptiness is barely mitigated by my faithful companion, Kuma.

Sitting here typing this doesn’t actually make me feel a lot better, but I’ve put my feelings into words. Now, it’s time to get up and get busy with today’s project. Keeping busy does keep feeling forlorn in the background, plus once I’ve completed my task, feeling forlorn will be replaced by the feelings of pride and completion.

TAKING A CHANCE AT PUBLICATION

 

Perhaps I’ve started this year off positively. For some reason, Writer’s Digest began sending me emails, a lot of emails, almost every single day. Most of them I simply deleted because I do not want to join the various organizations or enter the various programs offered. I did take note of the short story contest; however, the submission date was far too soon for me to even consider. 

The emails kept coming and this morning, there was one that said the entry date had been extended. So, I mulled that over, went through my writings and decided to submit something I’d written some time ago. I didn’t like the name, so I managed to change that and just completed my submission. Who knows if it will receive any kind of notice, let alone win one of the top three prizes. I won’t hear until some time in February. So, fingers crossed until then. 

And, since the short story can be placed in a blog, I’ve pasted it in here. Enjoy…or not.

                                        The Wrong Choice

      Dinae was a 15-year-old virgin. She never knew why they chose her to terrorize. She didn’t wear makeup, kept her long wavy hair pulled back into a clip at the base of her neck and wore baggy clothes that weren’t particularly fashionable. In the classrooms, she didn’t participate except when the teacher called on her, and then she kept her answers brief. She kept to herself and didn’t attempt to make friends…friendliness could be dangerous.

      All Dinae wanted was to obtain a diploma from the loathsome high school she was forced to attend without getting caught up in one of the gangs or resort to drugs in order to get by the way her mother had not that many years ago. Dinae wanted a future far away from the disgusting neighborhood and dreadful people. So, she tried very hard to not stand out, tried to simply fade into the background.

Still, the scariest gang leader chose her. He bumped into her one morning on the way to class, and with the help of a couple of his members, pushed her against the lockers. He stank of cigarette and dope smoke, sweat and something sweet Dinea couldn’t identify. She wanted to gag as he rubbed his erection against her, squeezed one of her breasts and whispered in her ear, “Hey bitch, know you’s a virgin. Gonna pop that sweet cherry of yours. Oh, yes’m I shorely am. Bitch you gonna be our train ride.” 

For the rest of the week, every time the leader or one of the gang members saw her, they would grab their crotch with one hand, try to touch her with the other and tell her what they planned to do and how much they’d enjoy it just as soon as they got a chance. After the first couple of days, her breasts and nipples were so bruised and sore, Dinae took to carrying her backpack in her arms in front of her chest so they were protected. 

There was nothing she could really do about what was happening to her. The gangs, especially the one that was terrifying her, pretty much ran the school. Most of the staff weren’t very good and were justly afraid of the students they had to face each day. Dinae was sure they’d all stop working in that school if they had an actual choice.  Her mother wouldn’t be any help either because she’d given up years ago. She’d probably advise Dinae to just lay back and let it happen. Her only respite was to attempt to stay in crowded places as much as possible. Still, she knew that sooner or later, they’d find a way to get to her. 

After more than a week of intimidating, bullying, and terrifying her, the leader managed to cause a ruckus in the school hallway. He did it fairly close to a teacher, and in such a way that it appeared as though it was Dinae’s fault. As the teacher talked to her about her behavior and handed her a detention slip, he and his gang stood behind the teacher, silently laughing, grabbing their crotches, blowing kisses and sticking out their tongues.

It was almost dusk when Dinae’s detention was completed. She hesitated at the exit doors. She looked around as carefully as was possible before she left the school and began to walk quickly toward home. She hadn’t gotten far before she was surrounded by five gang members. Her arms were grabbed and they hustled her down the street and across the asphalt playground toward an old empty portable. Halfway there, the leader said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Can’t wait to throw you down, rip them panties off and stuff my cock up your cunt.  When I’m done, you’re gonna pull train for the rest. Ya know what that is don’t ya? Getting’ fucked by each a us.” The other four laughed and made nasty comments about who would fuck her when. 

There was nothing she could do except go along and keep a tight hold on her backpack.  At least that protected her breasts from the hands that seemed to be all over the rest of her body. Once inside, and the door was closed, Dinae was released and she moved backwards until she felt the wall. The five boys formed a semi-circle around her. 

“Drop the backpack and git on the floor.” The leader ordered as he began to undo his pants. His erection popped free and he moved toward her with it in his hand. The others laughed, grabbed their own crotches, and encouraged him to hurry and take care of bidness.

Dinae stood up straight, the hard wall against her back a comfort. “I said git down on the fuckin’ floor bitch. Do it or I’ll throw you down.” 

He reached out to grab her backpack but halted mid-stride. There was a look of incredulity on his face. A red stain blossomed on his chest. As he fell to the floor, Dinae allowed her backpack to fall as well. In her hand was the gun it had concealed and with which she’d just shot her chief tormentor. 

The gunshot was followed by silence until Dinae’s quiet voice said, “Okay, who’s next?”

A NEW YEAR BEGINS

 

Here I go, poised at the beginning of a new year. When I think about all the days waiting for me to occupy them with fun experiences, chores, and interactions with family and friends, I try to think of ways in which I can enrich all the waiting days. I have to admit I don’t have a plan. I also have to admit there are already events and appointments on this newly turned calendar. 

I wasn’t sad to see the end of 2024. It was a difficult year, maybe one of the most difficult I’ve experienced so far. I have high hopes for an uneventful and enjoyable year. I also have a strong desire to not allow the various challenging episodes of 2024 to be replicated in 2025.

As for resolutions, I’ve never been one to make any, but it is definitely tempting when I look at the calendar of 365 days. How can I not choose to decide to make a promise to myself about something, i.e., take up walking again, eat a much healthier diet, choose one day a week to find and experience something or someone new. Right now, those ideas seem very doable and no excuses for not adopting any of these or other positive ideas have popped up. But, wait. I’ll undoubtedly find an excuse without even trying very hard.

It’s best, I guess, to simply take it one day at a time. Keep the commitments already on the calendar (exercise and driftwood classes) and add any new ones that pop up. Not only that, but make an effort to make and adopt a plan that will bring enrichment and wonderful experiences into my life. 

No promises, either to you or to myself, but I’ll let you know how it goes.