Real life intervenes...

- 2 minutes read - 216 words

My beloved has become very sick with a virus that has rendered her lethargic, weak, and many other unpleasant things.

I’ve been trying to keep the house clean (who wants a filthy place when sick), keep the pillows fluffed, the waters fresh, the soup warm….etc.

I’ve been tending her these last several days and have had no time to really write here about whatever miniscule trivialities float into my mind.

I hope everyone’s turkey day went well - mine was spent with my sick baby serving her a thanksgiving meal I whipped up on a moment’s notice: a store bought rotisserie breast, green beans pepper and sunflower seeds, mashed ’tatos, and cranberry sauce. We watched “Big” after that.

The night before we’d been at emergency care from about 3 to 11. My poor darling had been obliterated by dehydration.

It’s hard to believe that two years ago about this time I was gambling on the muggy shores of Sydney harbour.

Anyway, my patient is sleeping in the other room and I’m re-reading some Kerouac at the height of his Zen mysticism: Dharma Bums and Desolation Angels – trying to find some lessons in compassion.

I keep remembering Thoreau’s brother’s death (from teatnus) and how he saw his eyes begging for air…horrible, horrible to contemplate, to bear.