Kabir Kadre
Kabir Kadre
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What a precious life…

Kabir Kadre|13 days ago

The title I considered for today was something to be effective Cascading Traumas. Yes, that was the nature of my morning, and the day hasn’t looked up much since then.

But as I lay in bed in a pool of my own sweat, contemplating my situation, I noticed that the title also rather fits much of what is visible in our mainstream view of the world.

Apparently the largest dust storm on record in the Sahara, or is it the largest cloud from the best storm… Is now blowing west across the globe, darkening skies and dampening air quality, leaving in its wake a layer of dust. Maybe that’s why the Murder Hornets got out?

Pandemic cases are on the rise, and God knows what else. Thankfully I can hear my friend Dave gently encouraging me to remember my happy place. I close my eyes, in the midst of physical distress, political and economic turmoil, all that just in my house, and there in the moment is a perfect space of peace.

Visions of illumination rise up my spine and joyfulness crosses my face. Yes, much is still crappy, much is left to be done, and the state of my nervous system is not cooperating to do much more than sit in the sun and try to bake away the discomfort, but underneath all of that, at least there is joy.

What a precious life this is.

After waking up in a pool of urine that had soaked down into the mattress, past three layers of protection, I took a shower and returned to bed to attempt some dignity and recovery in the day. Nothing sinister caused the mishap, only a misplaced piece of drainage equipment, but the cascade continued.

The strain on my bladder had produced not only a nervous discomfort that kept me awake most of the night, misdiagnosing the issue as something digestive, but also enough tenderness to warrant the need for a catheter change.

As luck would have it, Caitlin was training Augusto today so there were many hands make light work, and somehow, magically, there was an RN scheduled to visit to see what kinds of services I might need. Cheerfully, she agreed that she could and would be happy to do catheter change, all that was needed was a verbal order from the urologist’s office. Apparently those are not too hard to come by, in my condition anyway.

For anyone reading regularly you may know that depending on whether you’re standing in the shoes of comedy or tragedy, this days affairs (my body has still not entirely recovered from the strain and seems likely to be resentful of something else yet unmitigated) will be recognized either as perfect or awful timing. As you may imagine, I’m sitting in both.

The prospective caregiver whom I was scheduled to interview this afternoon sent a text about 30 minutes after the arrival time was scheduled to announce that she had been sideswiped in her car, no response yet as to whether her condition is anything more than shaken.

Did I mention the dust storm? Sunsets are supposed to be beautiful.

I very much did have things I had intended to do today. This state however plunges my brain into a bit of a delirious state and cognition does not flow easily. Nor am I a meditation master that can pierce this kind of interruption and my morning efforts to do so were minorly successful at best.

I do think I got a few things done, though it really is beyond me to wonder what. Parts of the bed remain drying in the sun, and we’ve managed to stitch back together something passable for this evening’s respite. Tomorrow the mattress will go back into the sun, praying of course that I rise more gently and with better fortunes in the morning.

Somehow I did have to write today still. It’s late afternoon and when this is finished I will likely try lying down to see if there may be some relief there. As I make this remark I recall that I failed to mention a moment of appreciation; me in bed, sweating profusely in nervous response to some unresolved “trauma”, three kind souls, one on her way out, another on his way in, and the third just stopping by on coincidence, and I had care. So many don’t, in so many situations.

I feel words waxing long in my throat, but better for my body I think to stop here.


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