Vaccine Illness

thursday

Another sunny day in paradise. I was up at 5:00 and I tidied up the house and then, full of trepidation, I did some tech work on my computer. Dealing with technology causes me to stress out because I have no confidence and I fear the worst.

I recently upgraded my operating system to Tahoe 26.4.1, and since then I have been getting messages on my desktop from Apple telling me that my “Intel-based” apps would not work with the next Apple operating system update and that I should update them with an “Apple silicone” version of the software.

I used AI to learn how to remove the existing apps that I have and how to find and upload new versions. I appear to have been successful because when I open the apps of concern now, I no longer get the message to update my app. Phew!

I puttered around a cool house in the morning; I’m conserving firewood. And then I had a spa, even putting my arms and their bandages into the warm water. What joy I had getting into the warm, clear water while outside it is brisk (7°) and silent except for the odd rooster calling and sporadic birdsong.

And once the self-indulgent part of my day was done, Her Highness and I went for our morning walk while the laundry went through its cycle. I can’t water the gardens when the washer is on, so we walked, and when we got home, I went out to water the plants that I didn’t water on Wednesday. After, of course, checking the water level of the cistern.

I loved that I waited until the sun was high in the sky to walk. Feeling the sun on my skin and even through my clothes was divine. And the fragrance of the forest was sweet smelling with a hint of cinnamon. Oh, it smelt good. It is such a great, great way to stat the active part of my day.

And I even enjoyed watering the plants, both yesterday morning and on Wednesday. It has me checking in on every plant and finding things to do. I wanted to be able to stay in bed on Friday if I felt poorly because of the shot, knowing that my plants are not thirsty.

Soon, it was lunchtime, and then I read until the arrival of the dreaded hour to go to the clinic for my shingles shot. Sigh. I feared how sick I would be on Friday.

The evening was, as always, the same routine that is always a pleasure.

 

friday

Thursday night was rough. I was hot and kept waking up through the night, and when the whimpering and meowing called me to action at 5:00, I got up, fed everyone, let Sheba out to do her morning rituals, then, as soon as she came back into the house, I went back to bed and slept.

At 9:00. I pulled myself up and into clothes and took Her Highness for a short walk in the 707. I was death walking because I wanted to be in bed. I felt dreadful and hoped I would not see anyone. I didn’t, and soon I was back in bed.

They know when it is time to eat, so they were all in the bedroom wanting lunch at 11:30. I got up, fed them and went back to bed. I slept soundly until 15:00, when I had to take Shebie for her afternoon walk. Again, it was short, but not nearly so horrid as my morning walk, so I resolved to move to the chaise when we got home, and not to return to my bed.

I just lay there, eyes closed. I had no energy for reading or watching TV, so I just lay on the chaise with my eyes closed, sill and calm and content until it was time to feed the pets their dinner. I had no appetite, but I did manage to eat some toast and later, an apple. 

I eventually turned on the TV and I watched a movie that I had long wanted to see called Cactus Pears. It is the first mainstream Indian movie to deal with gay men, and I loved it. It was so gentle and moving; I was amazed by the film and the way it revealed the culture and rituals that are so much a part of Indian life, the rituals and believes that make a man not marrying so hard for a family to endure.  And then I went to bed and slept soundly through the night.

It’s lovely and warm outside this morning. Sheba and I will enjoy a long walk together this morning, and I will putter at yard work through the day. I’m taking it easy today, but I feel fully functional.

I’m so, so glad that getting my shingles vaccine is over. My next big event is on Wednesday when I got to Nanaimo Hospital for lung testing and then I’ll do some shopping while I’m on the big island, and then I meet Kris, Steve and Nancy for dinner at Mahle House. I’m very excited about dinner.

A year ago, when I had my lungs tested, they were functioning at 20%. That’s how I earned my right to Tezspire. It’s an expensive drug that the insurers don’t want to cover except for provably urgent cases. On Wednesday, Dr. Dorscheid is expecting me to discover that my lungs are working at 100%, and if I do prove to have maximum capacity, I’ll be taken off my two inhalers. I take 11 medications every day; to lose two of them is thrilling.

Today is going to be a good day. I’m looking forward to our walks because at this time of year, the temperatures are ideal. It was 13° at 5:00 this morning and the afternoon temperature is predicted to be 25°.

Woo hoo, 25°! I’ll be watering today.

My Condition is in the Driver's Seat

We don’t talk about the past, Dr. Shoja and I. Ten years of therapy boils down to one word: Neglect. 

I experienced seeing a long string of images of my life; what I saw in those images was that in every memory I was alone. I was 45 then, but that experience is what makes me believe in Dr. Shoja’s skill and diagnoses.

Neglect. It hurts. The truth hurts. It is really hurting me. Seizures, a nasty speech disorder. Truth is a burden for me. 

I have been looking back and seeing the past through a new lens. Specifically, I feel that neglect, unknown to my conscious self, distrustful of people. I feel it doomed me to be single, that’s what I knew. I’d never been completely open with anyone until I met Dwight and Steve in my early thirties.

We lasted 14 years, Steve and I. And we are in constant contact with each other still. I’m good at friendship. Love at a distance.

I love this house, having pets, having space and total quiet. I love my spa and the forest. I really love living in a log home right against the forest. It’s perfection. But I don’t feel it was my choice to live here. My breakdown made the overwhelmingly stimulating environment of downtown Vancouver unbearable.

My condition drove me here. 

I have a speech capacity that enables conversation but not discourse. I only have a speech disorder when I am with people. I have seizures when I’m with people. It seems to me that my condition wants me to be alone.

It’s fucking chilling to understand that ‘neglect’ is the engine of my life. Ove and over and over I say to myself, ‘I’m somebody I don’t want to be.’ I’ve been through this before, being born when being out took guts that I didn’t have, and it was a mortal sin in my faith.

It’s so fucking ironic that when I moved into the basement of the Tyrell’s house, the collected works of Charles Dickens was on the bookshelf.  His works were full of orphans.

 Walking yesterday afternoon in the sunshine with Sheba, on trails that are constantly changing in slow motion, and alone. We saw no one. It intoxicates me. I feel like the happiest, luckiest guy alive. I forget my troubles. I don’t hear my broken voice. I hear birds, I hear Sheba panting, so I know she’s close when she’s behind me. It’s a spiritually cleansing experience. It’s a healing experience.

My symptoms and my comfort only in solitude are driven by the constant of my narrative: neglect.

Given up by my birth mother, in an orphanage overwhelmed with unwanted babies, and then the Tyrells. I was doomed.

All my life, I protected them. I always said, ‘I don’t want to judge them. I don’t know their story. They have me a dreadful legacy, but the neglect by the Tyrells made me, more than anything, want to belong. I wanted to join the West Van Band because of the uniform. I valued love, and to be love, I felt I needed to try always to be ethical. I got a good moral education from my church.

That’s why I don’t defend The Tyrells anymore. They should have known better. If I can be loving, they could have been.

There was a time when I looked back on my life, I thought of the public theatre I design, and built with money I raised, a show, of my conception that toured Canada and got a review in Variety, and I was very proud of a series of four lectures that I presented in a large Vancouver venue, of outstanding female curators/creators, and with each speaker, I presented a twenty-minute playlet performed by professional actors I loved and respected, speaking lines extracted from the writings of four great female artists. It sold out.

Sadly, I think instead about this neuro-psychological mess I’m in, and that often makes me think about why I got it and how neglect affected by relationships. Yes, those things I did, happened. But they were things I did. Dr. S. attributes “compartmentalizing’ for allowing me to function well professionally.

So, this is understanding myself. And that is the result of the onset of my condition. It truly has changed my life and my life story, these two diagnoses.

I was watching a movie last night, and I was interrupted by whimpering from her highness. I stopped the movie and gave her a hearty massage back, neck and head massage. She begs for more. Instead, I propose that we go outside. I go out onto the courtyard, and I look at my landscaping, done without research or knowledge, just winging it, and now, eight years on, it is looking pretty damn good.

There’s variance of colour and height in the plantings, lots of open space left to nature, and I’m particularly pleased with the pathway and courtyard with its fountain and trellis.

I look at it all, and everything I see, other than plant the trees and some of the other natural shrubbery, everything is done by me. When I finally get the studio of my dreams, instead I create a mini park. And that makes me feel as good as I do on the trails. In the Winter, its books, pets and the fireplace that fulfil me.

What a ride my life has been, but it ends in paradise on earth: Pinecone Park.

Glass half full.

•

I got an email from one of the women in my dog walking group. It said: “I found an engorged tick in the sink drain when I was plunging that bathroom sink.”

I replied all: “You have no idea how much it delights me to receive an email with a sentence that I am very, very, proudly sharing with my friends: I found an engorged tick in the sink drain when I was plunging that bathroom sink.  Why am I proud? Because it’s a sentence that comes from living a rural lifestyle, and I am so proud to be here. I’m still, actively smitten with life here. And it’s also hilariously funny. Humour is an interesting thing to me. Denise saying “that” sink is what makes that sentence rock with colour and so, so funny. I think it’s a brilliant line for the right movie.”

The delight of my morning yesterday was taking a shower. My arm bandages did not come off, nor was there any bleeding. It felt so, so good to feel clean and to know I could go back to regular showering. While I waited to go to see my NP at the clinic, I wrote Jess to tell her that I will not be taking more speech therapy for a while. While I’m seeing Dr. S. twice a month, that is all I want to do.

My speech is holding well for friends. I remain unable to speak to strangers. I tried hard to speak to the receptionist at the clinic, but it was impossible and I could not care less. If I can speak to my friends, that’s all that matters. I’m still worse than I was prior to March 28, but if I can speak to my friends, I am giddy.

I cancelled the cortisone shot that Jennifer offered me. It’s only temporary and, given that I’ve already been waiting for eight months, I don’t see the point. If it works, I’d just be wanting another one and I’d be waiting again for another year. So f*ck that.

Instead, she has ordered barbotage. Barbotage (or needle aspiration and lavage) is a minimally invasive, ultrasound-guided procedure used to treat calcific tendinopathy (caused by my bone spurs). It involves using needles to break up and suck out calcium deposits within my Achilles tendon, followed by a corticosteroid injection to reduce inflammation. 

When I got home, we all had lunch and I had a nap. Then Her Highness and I went for our afternoon walk as the sky brightened and the angel piss stopped. It didn’t deserve consideration as precipitation. It was, as it always is, a delight to be forest walking. I love taking her walking. It is never something I want to put off. Come Friday, though, I may be feeling too poorly to walk her after my shingles shot tomorrow.

Last night was as usual and today may be an outdoor day. I kept waking up last night and so my sleep was fitful and so today I may not feel up to doing too much yard work. We’ll walk with our friends, and we’ll go into the village to pick up meds. Walking will be the highlight of my day.

Clouds and Angels

By the time we were ready to walk yesterday morning, it had clouded over and that somewhat dampened my desire to spend the day outdoors gardening because it was cooler than our glorious Sunday. Instead, I focused on some chores needing doing. 

After our walk, we went into the village to arrange for ana appointment at the clinic and to fetch some tomatoes from the nursery for the edible garden. The clinic is very good to me. Instead of getting an appointment in three weeks to a month, I am going in this morning at 11:40! 

When we got home, I planted the tomatoes and cleaned up one garden bed before heading out for our afternoon walk. After that, came some reading. Sadly, I am about to read the last of my Jackson Brodie novels by Kate Atkinson. And then our regular evening routine carried us through to bedtime.

Today is cloudy and Angle piss has dampened everything. What happened to those April showers made famous in song? I am hopeful that we’ll get some real rain today, but I have my doubts. I am worried about forest fires this year, and about how many trees we will lose to drought this Summer. Sigh.

Thursday, I get my second shingles shot. I am worried about that too. My first one made me sick the following day. And the nurse here says I may have a worse reaction to number two. Double sigh. 

Because it’s so dull outside, I lit a fire this morning. I shall be chillin’ today, reading and doing domestic chores. We will shop after my clinic appointment.