Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Here We Go

Good morning and it's still dark outside and it was so hard to drag my body out of the bed. I won't lie to you. I suppose that they do make doctor appointments in the afternoon but none of the people I go to the doctor with get any of those appointments. Kathleen's is at 8:45 this morning and my mother has one at 9:00 tomorrow.

Kathleen is going to talk to the doctor today, I think, about the results of her last scan and to get her bloodwork for tomorrow's chemo. We hope she'll be getting chemo tomorrow. She will if the bloodwork comes back with all signs good.

Mother is going to meet with the PA of the surgeon who is going to replace her knees. Mother seems to think that this surgery is going to be a piece of cake and then she's going to rehab for a few weeks and then she'll be spry and not in pain any more. I hope this is true, I fear that the process is going to be far more difficult than that but maybe not. She's in a lot of pain and her mobility is limited so the surgery is something she is really looking forward to and I don't blame her. Pain sucks and no one wants to have to sit around and think about how to get up out of a chair.
Anyway, she needs someone to take her. The parking itself is a daunting proposition and she gets details confused so...
I'll be getting up early tomorrow too.

Well. Early appointments mean that a nap time is possible and I got out of bed promising myself I'd get one today. I have rehearsal tonight (we're getting mighty, scarily close to opening night) and I'm getting nervous as hell about that.

So. Morning anxiety, la-di-dah. Here we go. And in an hour I'll be headed to Kathleen's and Judy is coming today too so it will be the three of us, on our way up north to Georgia and the fields will be beautiful, the bare pecans like great, brown fingers against the sky and tiny houses and large ones, the old Florida Welcome place where they used to sell liquor because Thomas County was dry but abandoned now, the old picnic tables falling onto the ground, the sun coming up to take charge of the earth, warming as it rises, and I shall be with two women I love and we always have a good time and as Judy says, "We shall celebrate life," and damn, that's worth getting out of bed for.

Elvis crows and wants out, the day begins, and I am up, not fully awake but getting there, thank god for coffee, thank-you Jesus, for coffee, thank whoever grew this coffee and picked it and shipped it here for me to buy and brew and drink, such miracles, tiny and perfect, a cup of coffee, a road to Georgia, friends and celebration of life.

Good morning.


  1. That paragraph about Georgia....it was simply lovely.

    I so enjoy this place, Ms. Moon.

  2. oh yeah...I could see you vividly driving through the countryside...maybe you're actually doing it right now?

  3. wrapped around you today,

    and I agree with Nancy

  4. travel safe in the company of friends.

    your words took charge of my body and lifted me above my dark solitary moment.

    i do love a good sunrise, and have just been that for me.


  5. Remember always...be good to yourself, at least as good as you are to the others you love.
    OK..good luck with results today!
    Love your way...hope you got a little Springsteen on when you are looking out the windows to Georgia. I remember our time so vividly...those moments of complete contentment and happiness!

  6. Good morning, dear Ms. Moon. I can see those pecans against the sky.

  7. Your word imagery is so clear and vivid. Hoping that all is well and glad you girls are together...

  8. I hope you're well on your way and that Kathleen is able to get her treatments today.

    As for your mother -- I'm sorry that you will have to deal with all of that as well. My next door neighbor just got knee replacements at the age of 80ish, and she's been hobbling around quite quickly, actually. I'm hoping it will be the same for your mother.

  9. I love you, your thoughts and your way with words, Ms. Moon.

    Re your Mother's knee replacements, it's not the surgery that hurts, it's the damned physical therapy afterward. (but SO necessary)

  10. I'm with you on the miracle of coffee. I despise early mornings. Torture. Sheer torture. Shit's just uncivilized.

    Love you, Mary.


  11. Ah I hope you got your nap. And that the chemo got the go-ahead.

  12. I wish you well in your attendance of the various medical appointments. My mom is not well right now, and doctor land is a whole different world. Have safe and good travel!

  13. oh yes, mornings and anxiety. i wrote about that.

    and i hope your mother's surgery is a roaring success, as easy on you as it is on her.

  14. That part of Georgia is stunning. I love the coast but those old pecan groves and the old houses are awesome.


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