I wanted to write something a few days ago after our mutual beloved friend Barnclown (Coco) had spine surgery - to say she had come through it, bantered in a Fentanyl induced cloud with one of the surgeons, and then faced the long nights post surgery on a trauma ward. She is home now and will write her own magic post as and when strength returns.
June is here and it is almost the middle of the year, the halfway point, and rain and sun are battling it out for dominion. For months I have been using an augmented reality game called Pokémon to make me walk and walk from one village to the next and back, feeling goofy and silly and also deadly serious about fighting the basic nature of this disease, which is to destroy all goofiness and silliness in us by confining us to hospital bays and PICC lines and stomach churning anxieties. Not to mention continuous low key depression and simmering PTSD rage.
Coco asked me about Pokémon while in hospital... so I caught a little creature right there on her bed... I don’t know how long this will last... it is such a strain on my eyes 🙈 but how else to combat the Wild Woman straining under decades of illness? Who am I? I wonder on a daily basis. Do you ask yourself this question?
I am on a low dose of Myfortic, I continue with IVIg and I want to believe all traces of campylobacter have been obliterated from my bloodstream. For now, that’s enough. Meanwhile I got rained on beside Isaac Newton’s apple tree in the Botanic Gardens, and meanwhile a moggy climbed onto my lap by Anne Frank’s tree on the hospital campus ... my expression reads: ‘Yay a strange cat loves me! Eek will she ever get off my lap? Also, is she ok? Sick? Sad? Yay she really loves me!’ 💜🍎🐯🐺♥️