St. Paddy sent the green folk for a visit this morning and the kids found the breakfast chairs turned willy nilly, the milk green and their shoes in the freezer. The leprechaun traps were empty, alas. To show they were good sports about this silly threat to their treasure the leprechauns did leave a bit of gold coin in the van's cup holders. Chocolate coin, for sure. Wee children need their chocolate.
This Irish lass has been out of sight for weeks now. That bit I wrote about things falling apart was true: my lungs were broken! Pneumonia the doc said, although I coughed my way up to Yosemite and back again with two children before learning of this diagnosis. Even the doc at first thought it was just bronchitis and a sinus infection gone horribly wrong. Slowly I'm regaining stamina and strength. The three-day-rule of my life following treatment still applies: three days of steady activity puts me out of commission, sometimes for a week. What a weenie. Who will hire an old lady who needs an occasional nap, or three?
The other after-cancer rule is that nothing is ever simple. A cough is never "just" a cough and pneumonia is never "just" pneumonia. There is always the shadow of metastatic disease lurking, and not just in my head. My primary care doc has me scheduled with a pulmonary specialist to make certain that all is well.
And yet, I am well. I do need more rest than your average princess but I wake up, still breathing, still willing to dance the dance. Now and then I'm reminded about the simple act of taking air in. As my dear friend Tom used to say, never take breathing for granted. Sometimes it's as simple as that.
Oh, and it seems to be the dryer's turn to need repair. Although I think the fact that the fridge is freezing whatever happens to land in the bottom produce drawer constitutes replacement we do need dry clothes... Maybe we could take bets on which appliance breaks down next? Is there money in that for us? (kidding!)
