D Selby Designs

When you go to the doctor for razor blade-feeling coughs, and she says, “Would you like a prescription for Tussinex?” the proper response is, “Don’t mind if I do.”

Floating like a butterfly.

Dang. Bronchitis.

I thought I had beaten it.

I used to get it twice a year, minimum, and hadn’t had it since heart surgery nearly five years ago until last April. Now, once more into the breach. So–I’m drinking lots of hot liquid (thank you, Wales, for sharpening my tea addiction) and reading the sequel to Chocolat, The Girl With No Shadow, by Joanne Harris. I know that book titles are to be underlined, but finding the little toggle is just too much effort–cough, cough.

I have only York peppermint patties, no fancy French truffles or lovely macaroons, but life goes on. Like Duffy’s Rockferry, Mercy.

Sunday: worked at Southland Christian’s coffee shop. Tasha, a sweetie if ever there was, said she was going crazy not knowing when Marty, her beloved, would propose, and he did an hour later! Spent the rest of the day prepping Mom’s left eye for cataract surgery.

Monday: more eye prep. And stopped nuts, seeds and whole grains for myself in prep for an upcoming procedure. Painted, painted, painted.

Tuesday: hours and hours at Commonwealth Eye Clinic. I was there long enough to learn the medical history of every designated driver of every eye surgery patient. The Nazi receptionist wouldn’t let me leave to get even a cup of coffee. When they finally called me back to take Mom home, I no longer recognized her. We’d both aged considerably.

Wednesday: follow up visit to Simpson Optical. Mom’s eye doc had moved over there from a cheapie glasses place, and the difference in professionalism was extreme. The only problem was, a wait–and I called the doc ‘Lisa’ the whole time. When we checked out, I grabbed one of her cards and noted that her name is ‘Angela’. She laughed, said that was the manager’s name at the last place. Jeez Louise. Mom had a fuzzy cornea, so she was scheduled for a follow up at the exact time of my colonoscopy on Friday.

Thurday: I fasted. Normally, I don’t eat breakfast and usually have lunch around two. Coffee is all I need. Well, Friends, my stomach started growling at 8 AM and never stopped. Mental. Had coffee, lots of water, lots of tea, and a sip of Mom’s peach-white grape juice. Started the salt pills and copious amounts of water at 6:, hit the head at 6:15, and by 9 had finished a book. Details I’ll leave out, only to say that the next day, a nurse told me I should have doused the exit wound with Desitin before the first wave. Who keeps Desitin around when your kids are 31 and 26? And, talk about shutting the barn door after the horse runs away.

Friday: more salt pills and water. Greg dropped me off at the procedure facility, and took Mom for her eye exam. I politely danced with the other candidates through a reel of ‘who can get to the restroom first?’. Waited. Filled out paper work. Danced. Waited. Greg and Mom returned. Couldn’t help replaying the Saturday Night Live ‘Colon Blow’ commercial in my head. Procedure came and went. All is well. I wish I knew who was next to me in the curtained-off wing, because I’d like to give her heartfelt congratulations and a medal for longest and loudest fart in human history. Later last night, as I was popping Gas-X, I so envied her.

Today: pasta salad marinating, De’s special pound cake baking slowly. First time I’ve baked with Splenda. The cheaper Kroger brand, anyway. We’ll see. Here’s a peony painting on which I’ve practiced water marks. It is sunny and so hot here, that even Mom got over-heated out on the patio. Greg is at a classic car show at Keeneland.

Happy Days, Folk.

After three weeks of glorious free time (Mom was in Virginia with her first born) alone–cereal for supper, sleeping in, painting, spontaneous bouts of mall walking–I am back to the routine of elder care. She was scheduled to have an increase in her dosage of Aricept while there, and it is helping. I don’t think she’ll be Google-ing Einstein’s theory of relativity, but daily functions are being carried out mostly normally.

I spent a good deal of my three weeks looking at assisted living and elder outings, but all for naught. We thought my aunt wanted to live with her sister, but Aunt Sally is clinging pretty tightly to my cousin, and Mom really shouldn’t live alone, even with assistance. One of the places I scouted looked pretty good–to ME! Housekeeping and laundry taken care of, all meals and snacks, 4 activities a day. Church next door. Cheddar’s down the street. A weekly bus to ‘the’ Wal-Mart. Hey, hey.

I am doing a series of flowers for my own self. Many, many years ago, I was taught that flowers were not appropriate subjects for contemporary artists. I can no longer fight the urge. Larry Rivers I will never be.