I've been asked to write a 'word from the editor'
page this month and I'm at a loss as to what to talk about. There's more
eloquent writing in these pages than you'll find here. I'm not
comfortable talking about advocacy because I don't offer the experience
or knowledge you'll find when you turn this page and read on.
My co-editor, Peg, suggested I write about my recent
unexpected trip to the hospital and subsequent eight day sojourn there.
I'm not sure anyone wants to hear about it, but here's the mid-length
version. I thought I was going to explode one Wednesday evening, and my
concerned husband drove the truck across the front lawn to the door,
bundled me onto the front seat and drove me to the hospital. They
admitted me and .... well I'll spare you the details. I am shy a few
parts, but apparently I didn't need them anyway so all is well.
I don't remember much because it was Demerol the
first few days and morphine the rest of the time. Here's a tip; don't
talk to people when you have a morphine drip in your IV, (especially the
aides). I do remember my daughter singing to me in the middle of the
night (she snuck in the emergency entrance) and Carl being there almost
the whole time. I don't know what I would have done without them.
IV's, drain shunts and Parkinson's disease do limit your ability to
reach your arse when you need to. I knew I was getting better when one
day I overheard Carl telling someone on the phone that "she seems to be
better, she's complaining less liberally". And so I am.
I have other subjects I could ramble on about, and I
think I will. For instance; it's a glorious Spring out there and I love
flowers, but I can't take care of my garden like I used to. I'm more
likely these days to sit and watch my neighbor getting out his
Guerilla-gardening gear and proclaim war on weeds.
I like to sit in the grass out back, under a tree for
shade, the cats guarding me from whatever cats worry about. They usually
end up next to me with their heads lying across my empty shoes. We like
to watch the birds.
There are more birds this Spring, or my hearing has
gotten better. I think about how many birds there will be in a few
years, as I watch them pick insects and worms from the ground which have
been basking in toxic sprays. I wonder why it hasn't occurred to people
in the neighborhood that they may be contributing to the extinction of
these beautiful creatures. I see many birdhouses, almost every house on
my street has at least one, yet toxic-death-to-unwanted-vegetation
trucks are out plying their trade and it looks like business is good.
I think that's about it. I guess I had something to say
after all.
Carol Mcleod
